


the night is dark

by ladydetective



Series: the night is dark [1]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Child Abuse, F/F, Implied/Referenced Prostitution, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-10-18 04:40:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 66,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10609449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydetective/pseuds/ladydetective
Summary: Rose is from a particularly impoverished area in District 12 - to her, the games offer a means of escape and a chance at a better life.Luisa is from District One, the daughter of a wealthy hotelier  - for her, the games are a nightmare that she is only enduring for the sake of a loved one.Together, they are the star-crossed lovers of Districts 1 and 12.Welcome to the Seventy-Fourth Annual Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> -This originally began as the prompt: "star-crossed lovers au" and has since spiralled into a multi-chapter that hasn't stopped consuming my mind since I thought of it. Thanks to whoever sent the prompt!   
> -Because this is a Hunger Games AU, it is going to be dark. There will be violence, character death etc, as well as mentions of the canon prostitution of victors and other not so nice themes that are referenced in the book.   
> -There will be quite a few differences to the original, partly because an f/f romance necessitates it (they couldn't be from the same district) and partly to make it more interesting.  
> -If you're not familiar with the Hunger Games, you probably will still be able to follow along, and feel free to message me on tumblr if you have any questions!  
> -A particular warning for child abuse in this chapter. It's not especially graphic, but still.

* * *

 

**District Twelve**

* * *

 

Rose awoke that morning to sunlight streaming through cracks in the roof. They’d been there for a while now - the weather had been hot lately, so she hadn’t been inclined to repair them. But winter was coming, and cold frosts along with it. If she didn’t fix it soon, she’d end up with pneumonia- or worse. She groaned with frustration, thinking of all the additional hunting she’d have to do in order to get enough game to trade for the right materials.

She sat up, and a bolt of anger hit her as she did so. That happened a lot lately - she’d get angry at her step-mother, her living conditions, most people in her immediate vicinity - but that was good. Anger was good. It kept her motivated- kept her from curling up in her too-hard bed and just giving up.

It hadn’t always been like this. Rose used to lead a comparatively wealthy life, at least as far as the denizens of District 12 could be expected to anyway. Her father had owned the bakery up in the town. They didn’t live like victors, but at least there was always a guaranteed supply of food. And there were no cracks in the roof.

She’d had friends too. They had been the children of other shopkeepers in the town, and they had spent any free moment they had together, playing all the games that children were meant to play.

Rose found herself almost smiling at the memory, but then caught herself. Pointless reminiscing would get her nowhere. She had hunting to do. She pulled herself out of bed, and changed into the clothes that she normally wore into the woods.

There was no food in the ramshackle kitchen to make a proper breakfast. Hopefully, she would be able to catch something when she was out. Her body complained at skipping the meal, but she shoved its’ protestations aside. She’d gone longer than this before.

Before stepping out of the door, she scanned the house for her step-mother. There was no sign of her. Likely, she was busy whoring herself in the town, trying to find another semi-wealthy man that she could marry and consequently drive to an early death, thought Rose bitterly.

As Rose walked across the Seam towards the fence that would allow her access to the woods, she couldn’t help but pick up her earlier train of thought. She didn’t want to- the story didn’t have a happy ending- but the thoughts were irritatingly persistent.

She was twelve when her life started to go downhill at a remarkable rate. It had started with her father’s remarriage. Rose didn’t remember her mother- she had died not long after Rose’s birth. For years, it had just been her and her father. She had been the apple of his eye - there was nothing he wouldn’t do for his little girl.

But then he met Elena. The other woman hadn’t been cruel to Rose - not exactly, anyway. She made sure to appear sufficiently doting whenever the girl’s father was in the room, but when he wasn’t she paid Rose no heed at all. In retrospect, that had been preferable to what would come later, but a young Rose had no way of knowing that. All she knew was that she had once been the centre of her father’s world, and was now forced to share the spotlight with this cold, unfamiliar stranger.

Life had continued that way for another two years, and Rose had slowly been able to adjust. She took solace in school – where she was generally well liked – and amongst her group of friends. She gradually returned to the happy child that she had been.

Then her father died and her world was turned upside down. The Capitol charged Rose and Elena an exorbitant inheritance tax on the bakery, and they’d been unable to pay it. It had been taken away from them, and they were forced to move out of the town that Rose had loved into the Seam.

The Seam was the poorest area of District 12, and just about all they could afford. Their new house was tiny, just a kitchen and two small bedrooms that just about fit a small bed in each. It was cold and draughty, and leaks were frequent. There was historically very little interaction between kids from the town and the Seam, and no exception was made for Rose. Her friends- whom she had been so fond of- deserted her. They weren’t willing to come down to the dirty, cramped Seam to visit her and Rose was no longer welcome to play with them in the town. They ignored her when she had approached them in school, and she’d quickly gotten the message.

The kids from the Seam were no better. To them, she would always be a privileged outsider with a funny way of speaking and strange notions of etiquette.

So it had just been her and Elena. Elena had grown up in the Seam, and resented being back there. She’d thought that marrying Rose’s father would stop her from ever coming back here, but she’d been wrong. She also resented her step-daughter – she’d never wanted children, and was now saddled with one that was not her own. Her treatment of Rose escalated from cool indifference into something more extreme.

It had started with harsh words and snide comments - and usually didn’t go beyond that – but on days when she was feeling particularly vitriolic, Elena could give a particularly hard slap. Lessons, she called them.

Not all of Elena’s lessons had been useless, mind. One day, she’d forced Rose into the woods and shoved a bow into her hands, insisting that she learn how to provide for herself. After some trial and error, Rose had become quite proficient with the weapon.

The woods became a refuge for Rose. There, she was free from the typical noises and smells that emanated from the Seam.

And she _relished_ using her bow - when she was hunting and tracking her prey, then ending their lives with a swift arrow to the eye – she felt a sense of power and control that had been absent from her life for a very long time.

Rose became interested in other forms of combat – hunting also made her good with a knife, as she needed to use one to gut the animals that she shot – but she began thinking of other ways to use one, and practiced throwing them at targets she erected in the woods. She crafted make-shift spears out of whatever large pieces of wood she could find, and used them to train her strength – there was only so much of this she could do on her limited diet, but every little helped – and soon she was able to feel muscles form on her arms. They were not as impressive as they could have been if she had still lived on the same quantity of food she had as the daughter of a baker, but they were something.

Any other free time she had was spent in the school library, pouring over books that gave her ideas of strategy or trap-making – anything to give her an edge.

All of this was done with one goal in mind – The Hunger Games.

As a child, she had feared the Hunger Games like any other person would. At twelve years old, she’d stood clustered with her group of friends and prayed to whoever was listening that her name wouldn’t be pulled. The same was true for the next couple of years, but after her father died and she’d moved to the Seam with Elena, that – along with many other things – had changed.

Now, Rose _wanted_ to be chosen. At sixteen, she’d taken out tesserae, hoping that the extra number of slips with her name on it in the bowl would increase her odds. She trained, and watched previous games religiously, examining the strategies of previous victors and theorising how she could improve on them.

Rose was eighteen now, and this was the last year that she was eligible for the Games. If her name wasn’t chosen, she would volunteer. It was a custom very seldom practiced in District 12 – in fact, there hadn’t been a volunteer in her lifetime – but it was still an option that was available, and she would take it.

She would go to the Capitol; she would win the games and she would secure a life for herself that would ensure that she _never_ set foot in this cesspit again.

She would be unstoppable.

* * *

 

**District One**

* * *

 

In District One, Luisa awoke to sunlight streaming in through her window and winced. Her head was pounding – she’d spent most of last night entertaining dad’s visitors. And victors really knew how to drink, she’d give them that much. _Ugh, I shouldn’t’ve tried to match them drink for drink though_ , she thought as she contemplated the day ahead of her.

She was due to clock in some hours at the training centre today, and groaned loudly at the thought. As a resident of a career district – that is, Districts 1,2 and 4 – Luisa was expected to spend a minimum number of hours in the gym every week, sharpening her skills in preparation for the Games.

She hated it. Luisa abhorred violence of any kind, and didn’t see why she should be forced to inflict it on another human being unnecessarily. She wasn’t planning on volunteering for the Games, and the startling number of people who did meant that someone would likely choose to take her place if she was unlucky enough to get reaped.

She’d grown up aware of this fact, so when she was due to begin training at eight years old, she’d refused. That was technically within her rights, as the training wasn’t officially mandatory – only “strongly encouraged.” However, problems began to arise early on. When children were taught from a young age the best and most efficient ways to land a punch, they were inclined to test it out on people who were not willing to fight back.

Luisa put up with this for years, but eventually ran out of excuses to give both her family and herself as to why she was always covered in bruises.

So she decided to push back.

One day, when she was about 13 and on her way home from school, she encountered a boy from her class who especially enjoyed tormenting her. Marvel, his name was. He could usually be found with a group of cronies but today, he was alone and decided to amuse himself by playing with his favourite target. He approached her head-on with his fist raised and an amused smirk on his face, and something inside of Luisa just snapped.

She dodged out of the way of his blow, and balled her own hand into a fist. She raised it with an energy that she seldom deployed and punched him hard in the face. She heard a snap as her fist connected with his nose, and blood began gushing out of it. Marvel began swearing loudly, and Luisa made a run for it.

She felt sick – she’d just gone against everything that she believed in. Her hand – which was flecked with Marvel’s blood – began shaking violently, and her breathing became uneven. She stayed in this panicked state for several minutes, trying to rationalise what she had done.

The realisation dawned on her slowly – today, she’d be able to walk home without feeling the pain of freshly forming bruises for the first time in _years_.

Things began to change after that, and she started to go to training. She was years behind everyone else, but managed to catch up pretty quickly. The others were only used to violence in contained situations, whereas Luisa experienced it on a daily basis. She’d become good at anticipating when and where a punch would land, and her new training gave her the skills needed to quickly and efficiently fight back.

She still detested violence, but had learned that it was sometimes the only option if she wanted to avoid getting her head kicked in. When people saw her quickly growing abilities, they backed off – for the most part. There was still the occasional idiot who couldn’t take a hint, but Luisa no longer felt any qualms about retaliating when someone else made the first move.

Luisa stretched tiredly, and seriously considered the pros and cons of skipping training today in her current hungover state. _I should probably just get it over with_ , she thought to herself as she stumbled out of bed and went in search of her gym clothes.

It took some looking and rifling, because her room was a mess. Clothes were strewn everywhere, and there were empty bottles decorating the floor at varying intervals. _Last night must have been wilder than I remembered – Dad won’t be happy when he hears about this._ Emilio Solano was the manager of the Marbella – a hotel in the heart of District One that catered towards wealthy Capitolite tourists as well as the occasional Victor. As the eldest child and heir apparent of the hotel, it was Luisa’s job to entertain these guests. This often involved a lot of drinking, hence her current state.

After a couple minutes of fruitless searching, Luisa was about to give up when she noticed a piece of paper on her nightstand. It was a note, written in familiar handwriting:

_I wanted to talk to you earlier, but you were still asleep. Boo! I took your training stuff so you’d come see me before you headed over there. :P_

_-J_

‘Little shit,’ muttered Luisa, with a fond smile forming on her face. ‘Better go see what she wants.’

* * *

 

Luisa made her way down to the hotel rec room, where the twelve-year-old Jane could normally be found in moments where she wasn’t in school or at training. Jane, as well as her mother and grandmother, also lived in the hotel. Before Rogelio De La Vega – District One’s star victor and long-time darling of the Capitol – had won his games, he’d been in a serious relationship with Jane’s mother. This relationship had continued for some time after he had won his Games, but Xiomara fell pregnant.

Everyone, regardless of their opinion on the Games – and they were varied in District One – knew that it was common practice for the children of Victors to be reaped. The Capitol audience ate it up, and it served to remind Victors that although they had won, their lives were still not their own. Rogelio, though he could appear vain to the point of stupidity at times – and not all of that was for the benefit of the camera - was fully aware of this and came up with a plan. By mutual agreement, he and Xiomara staged a very public break-up, throwing accusations of cheating around for good measure. Jane had been born several months later, away from the spotlight of the media.

Rogelio and Emilio had been friends growing up, and so Emilio had devised the next stage of the plan. He gave Xiomara a job and accommodation in the Marbella, and since it wasn’t unusual for a victor to be spotted there, Rogelio was able to see his daughter - albeit in secret.

Consequently, Luisa and Jane had grown up alongside each other. Luisa was six years older than the other girl, and came to view her as something like a sister. They’d wile away long summer afternoons playing together, sometimes with Rafael and sometimes without him. They were one another’s confidante – it had been Jane that had noticed the bruises Luisa would come home with every day and had been a driving force in pushing her to fight back.

They also bickered like sisters.

Luisa swatted the young girl lightly on the arm. ‘Where’s my gym gear?’

Jane jumped in surprise – she hadn’t noticed the other woman come in. She’d been absorbed in her writing, but pulled away from it in order to stare up at the other girl in mock-hurt. ‘Ow! I thought you didn’t approve of violence!’

‘I’ve been learning to make exceptions. I think annoying little sisters who steal my training stuff count, don’t you?’

Jane stuck her tongue out in reply, before her expression shifted nervously. She bit her lip, as if unsure how to get the words out. Luisa began to grow concerned, and moved her irritation to one side for the moment.

‘Is everything okay?’

‘Can we talk somewhere more private?’

Luisa nodded, ‘Sure. Come on.’ They moved out of the busy rec room, and into a room reserved for employees marked ‘Private.’

Watching Jane’s nervous demeanour, Luisa felt her worry for the other girl mount. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘I know that everyone says this, but I’m worried about the reaping. I know that they don’t technically know who my father is, but come one, the Capitol **always** knows.’ Jane’s voice began to crack as tears entered her eyes. ‘I don’t want to enter the Games, Luisa. I know that we’re meant to want to, and that winning is a huge honour for our district, but I can’t kill someone!’

Luisa wasn’t sure how to respond – the younger girl’s words were true. In all likelihood, Snow was aware of the truth of Jane’s parentage and just biding his time, letting the family think that they’d gotten away with it. She knew that Xo and Rogelio were also worried about it – this was the first year that Jane would be eligible for the reaping. She slung a comforting arm around her shoulders and held her as she sobbed quietly.

‘I can’t promise that you won’t be chosen. Everything that you just said is right. But,’ she paused, considering what to say, ‘I can promise that you won’t go to the Games. You know what our District is like, there’s a queue of volunteers every year.’ This wasn’t entirely true – in years where the reaping had obviously been fixed in order to push through a political agenda (such as to allow for the selection of a Victor’s daughter) people normally had the sense not to interfere. One year, an eighteen-year-old guy had allowed his ambition to impede the Capitol’s plans and volunteered in place of a candidate they’d obviously chosen, and he had been punished in the Arena for it. But she couldn’t allow Jane to know this – it would upset her too much.

Jane nodded, and appeared to calm down. She hugged Luisa back, gratitude filling her voice as she said, ‘Thank you, Lu.’

In that moment, Luisa knew that she would do anything to make sure that Jane didn’t end up in the Games. Even if it meant defying the Capitol’s wishes by volunteering in her place.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the quickest update that I have ever done, omg. Thanks to deadbutwalkingc for planning out story details with me!  
> A warning for mentions of child abuse here, though it's no more graphic than it was in the previous chapter.  
> As always, I appreciate all kudos and comments that I receive, thank you!

On the morning of the reaping, Rose awoke feeling well-rested and energised for the first day in a long time. Today was the day – the day that she’d been waiting for, the day that all her training had been building up to, the day that would see her leave the Seam and never look back. She was ready. She could do this.

Rose took in her too small room in her too small, run-down house. Instead of causing a well of resentment to rise up inside her as it normally did, today she only felt anticipation. This would be the last morning that she’d wake up in this godforsaken place. That thought had sustained her the night before, and allowed her to wake up in the good mood she was currently in.

Everyone, regardless of financial background, was expected to wear their very best clothes on reaping day. It reflected poorly on the District if the extremely fashion conscious Capitolites caught sight of children wearing tatty clothes – it was no better than rags, in their eyes. Peacekeepers were known to be rough with people who did not comply with this unwritten rule. Rose used to have nice clothes – they weren’t on par with the ridiculous get-ups she’d see on Capitol citizens (though that was probably a good thing) – but they’d been clean, and hadn’t had holes in them or patches sewn onto them. Her father had always made sure that she took pride in her appearance, and that had been a lesson that she’d carried with her into the Seam. She’d become good with a needle and thread, and if her clothes ever needed any alterations – whether due to tearing or simply just due to the fact that she’d grown – she always made sure to hunt extra game to trade for the appropriate materials.

Today, she would wear a dress that had belonged to her mother. She’d managed to salvage a few of her things before they’d been evicted from the house that accompanied the bakery. Rose wasn’t sure why she did that – she had no memories of the woman that had given birth to her, though her father had spoken of her fondly. Perhaps it had been a bid to prevent Elena from taking it –  she had certainly kept them well-hidden enough since then.

It was an emerald green, knee-length dress that suited her red hair well. Red was an uncommon colour in District Twelve – or in any district, really – but Rose had seen from pictures that it was something she shared with her mother. The dress had been far too big for her originally, but Rose had been planning this day for a long time and had made alterations long in advance. Now, it fitted her perfectly.

After she had suitably prepared herself, Rose made her way down to the courtyard outside of the Justice Building, where the reaping was due to take place. Several people were already there, mingling with friends or whispering anxiously with the those beside them. Many stopped to stare at Rose as she walked by, their eyes conveying the desire that they felt. These were the same people who had ignored and rejected her after the death of her father, and Rose worked to suppress a smirk. They would regret that, when she was a victor and reaping the benefits in the Capitol while they were stuck in District 12. They’d come to regret a great many things.

She took her place near the front with the rest of the eighteen-year-olds. Most looked less nervous than they had in previous years – though their names were in there more times than before, it was also their last year of eligibility. After today, they’d begin their lives as adults and start work in the mines or one of the few other occupations open to the people of District 12. They even seemed _happy_ about it – yet to Rose, that would be a fate worse than death.

A few minutes later, Mayor Undersee came onto the stage and welcomed everyone to the Reaping before beginning his usual lecture on the history of the Games and the ‘generosity’ of the Capitol. He was less than enthusiastic and Rose only half-listened – it was more or less the same as every other year. The Big Bad Districts rebelled, the Valour and Goodness of the Capitol forces allowed them to triumph, et cetera et cetera. Anyone with half a brain knew it wasn’t the full truth anyway. Though Rose desperately wanted to enter the Games, she didn’t do it out of love for them or the propaganda that the Capitol espoused. She couldn’t care less about the honour that would be brought to her District when she won, which she knew was the attitude of most people in Career Districts. No, her motives were purely self-interested, and she wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

Rose took in the rest of the people on the stage as he continued speaking. It was almost comically empty. In most Districts, but particularly 1,2 and 4, it would be thronged with former Victors on reaping day. In District 12, there was only one – Haymitch Abernathy. Rose had seen his Games in the school library, and had been surprised by them. Haymitch hadn’t merely won them by chance, as anyone who saw him now would assume. He’d been clever – the Capitol couldn’t have been happy when he used something they’d never intended to be a weapon against them. But he’d let himself go since then. Now, Rose imagined that the only thing he’d be able to use against anyone was a bottle of whisky. Peacekeepers had to escort him to the Games today, and kept their weapons trained on him (out of sight of the cameras, of course) to make sure that he didn’t drunkenly yell anything inappropriate – or worse, seditious – while the world was watching.

After what seemed like an age, Mayor Undersee finished speaking and welcomed Effie Trinket – District Twelve’s escort – onto the stage. By Capitol standards, her outfit was reasonably muted – bright pink with hideous ruffles, topped with a blonde wig that reminded Rose of pictures of women that she’d seen in old history of fashion books (the Capitol didn’t allow many other subjects to be distributed to the districts) – but still stood out to a ridiculous degree in an area as impoverished as District 12.

She walked over to the microphone and bid everyone welcome, and unlike Mayor Undersee, she seemed genuinely enthusiastic. Rose wondered if she was merely an accomplished actress, or if she truly believed everything that she was saying.

‘And now, without further ado, it’s time for the part that we’ve all been waiting for,’ trilled Effie, as she neared the large glass bowl that held the names of all the girls in the District. Rose felt a shiver of anticipation run through her body. It was time.

Effie reached an elegant hand into the bowl, and delicately plucked a single slip of paper from somewhere near the top. She unfurled it with a flourish, and shock flashed across her features for a brief moment before she buried it, allowing her face to morph back into its’ previous camera-appropriate state. She announced in a loud, clear voice:

‘Madge Undersee.’

The escort’s momentary surprise made sense – Madge Undersee was the Mayor’s daughter, making her the wealthiest child in District 12. She and Rose had played together while Rose still lived in the town, and they’d been pretty close. There was no way that the other woman’s name was in there more than once – this had been deliberate. For the first time in years, Rose reconsidered her plans. If she foiled the Capitol’s plans by entering in place of their obvious choice, it was highly likely that they’d punish her for it in the arena.

But she couldn’t back out now – this was her last chance. She’d worked too hard for this, and would not let the Capitol get in her way. If they wanted to punish her for it, let them. She would beat whatever they threw at her.

She stepped forward, just as Madge was beginning her ascent to the stage. ‘I volunteer as tribute.’

Shock rippled through the crowd, and she heard the beginnings of excited whispers forming behind her. On the stage, there was equal disarray. Haymitch had abandoned his bored expression and was looking at her shrewdly, breaking out of his alcohol induced haze. Effie wasn’t quite sure what to do.

‘How exciting, District 12’s very first volunteer! But I believe there is first the matter of – oh well, never mind, since you are already up – come on, dear!’

Rose walked up to the platform, not only conscious of but revelling in the fact that every single person in District 12 – regardless of whether or not they were in the courtyard or watching from town square – had their eyes on her. For the first time in several years, those eyes were not full of loathing and contempt, but shock and even some awe. This was her moment.

She took her rightful place on the stage, and had to fight to keep a proud smile from decorating her face – _I have to play this strategically_ , she thought. _I can’t appear too arrogant, it won’t go over well with the crowds_. Rose didn’t have to feign humbleness for long, however, as something curious happened then – a gesture she didn’t entirely understand.

One by one, the people of District 12 pressed three of their fingers to their lips and then raised them into the air – an old gesture that had fallen out of style, but had once been used at funerals. It confused Rose – did they have such little faith in her abilities? – but then it dawned on her. They thought that she was volunteering for Madge in order to prevent the District’s darling from entering the Games, that she was being… self-sacrificing. _Huh_. _This… could be useful, actually_.

Rose continued to mull over the implications of this while maintaining her neutral expression. It left her with little attention to spare for the rest of the reaping. She vaguely recognised the boy that was reaped – he was also from the town, though she couldn’t remember ever particularly interacting with him. His face was blank with shock, though she could see tears forming in his eyes. He’d be no use to her in the arena. _Madge and David, Daniel, whatever… it was unusual for two townspeople to be reaped in the same year._

They were forced to shake hands, which both reluctantly acquiesced to, and were then ushered into the Justice Building in order to say what was for the majority of tributes – at least from District 12 – their final goodbyes.

* * *

 

The Justice Building was the only building in District Twelve – with the exception of the houses in Victor’s Village, of course – that could really be classified as “nice.” It wasn’t lavishly decorated, but was clean and looked as if it had been designed with concepts other than utility in mind. _Couldn’t have Capitol dignitaries forced to stay in squalor now, could we?_ Thought Rose bitterly, though even her usual pessimism and her unforeseen reception at the reaping couldn’t detract from the overwhelming triumph that she was currently feeling.

She had done it – she was a tribute in the Hunger Games.

Rose and whatever-his-name-was were led into separate rooms in order to receive their visitors. She noticed that he already had several friends and family members queueing up to greet him, all with some form of tears in their eyes.

She rolled her eyes, and walked into her own appointed room. It was comfortable – there was a fire that kept it pleasantly warm, with armchairs to either side. She sat down in one, and admired the soft material. There were several cookies on the table, presumably there for the enjoyment of the tribute. Rose felt a stab of… something hit her stomach then. Her father used to make these and send them to the Justice Building for reaping day. It had been a long time since she’d had food like this. She took one in her hand, and raised it up to her face. It smelled of the bakery, of the last place that she’d truly felt at home. She wondered idly if her father would have approved of what she’d done today. Probably not.

She forced this uncomfortable swell of emotion down. It had no right to invade her like this, not today. She had to strategise. She had a Game to win, after all.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the door. Rose looked up, curiously. She hadn’t expected any visitors – didn’t need any.

It was Madge. She walked into the room hesitantly, as if she wasn’t sure she should be there. She had something gold and shiny tucked into her hand, but Rose couldn’t tell what it was.

Rose inclined her head curiously, and waited for the other girl to speak.

Madge didn’t seem sure where to begin, and stood there for several seconds thinking of what to say. She eventually took a deep breath, and said, ‘I just… wanted to thank you, for what you did. I wouldn’t last five minutes in the Games. I don’t… I don’t know why you did it, but thank you.’

Rose felt just as awkward as Madge seemed to. She wasn’t used to talking civilly with people of her own age. She’d conversed with people in the hob, and even become somewhat grudgingly fond of a few of them, but they had always been several years older than her and the interactions driven by necessity. She wasn’t sure how to proceed here. ‘You’re welcome.’

‘Is there anything I could do for you during the Games? Take care of your step-mother, pass any messages to anyone, anything?’

Rose frankly couldn’t care less if Elena starved to death. In fact, she’d probably prefer it. Rose thought back to the odd gesture that the crowd made earlier, and realised that there _was_ something Madge could do for her.

‘There is something.’

Madge looked earnestly at her. ‘Anything.’

‘Since I volunteered for you, they’re going to want to interview you. We were friends once, can you pretend that we never stopped?’

Madge bit her lip, and looked at her with sadness in her eyes. ‘I never wanted to stop. Believe me, but my father, he – he didn’t want me hanging around someone from the Seam. Said it was dangerous for his reputation.’

Rose’s mind had been focused entirely on her strategy for the Games, and honestly hadn’t meant anything by her words. But Madge’s reply had derailed her.

They _had_ been friends, once. Madge was one of the children that she’d been friends with when she still lived in the town, perhaps the one she’d been closest to. Rose remembered going to the mayoral mansion shortly after she’d moved to the Seam, hoping to visit Madge - only to be turned away at the door by Mrs. Undersee, who had claimed that her daughter didn’t want to see her.  At the time, Rose had taken the words at face value, and they had been re-enforced when Madge showed no interest in her at school.

Perhaps there was some merit to Madge’s claim, perhaps not. _It doesn’t matter_ , thought Rose, somewhat viciously – _focus on the task at hand_!

‘Will you do what I asked?’ She said, seemingly ignoring the other girl’s previous words entirely.

Madge seemed upset by Rose’s response, but nodded anyway. ‘Of course. I’ll do whatever I can, and make sure other people chip in, too. I think you could win Rose, I really can. You’ve always been so… determined.’

Rose nodded her thanks, and they sat in companionable silence for a while. Madge kept fidgeting with the gold thing in her hand, as if debating something in her mind. Finally, she turned to Rose, and said, ‘I want you to have this. They allow you to bring one thing with you into the arena, something to remember home by.’

She handed the golden trinket to Rose. It was a pin, with some kind of bird represented on it.

‘It’s a mockingjay. It was my Aunt’s token. She was reaped the same year as Haymitch, but didn’t make it home. I was hoping that it’d bring you more luck than it brought her.’

Rose vaguely remembered the woman Madge was talking about. She’d watched those Games carefully, wanting to find out as much as she could about District 12’s only surviving Victor. Maysilee Donner had been striking, and Rose had been impressed with her somewhat rebellious strategy during the Games. She examined the pin more closely – it would make a good District token, maybe even an excellent one if she used it to sell her story – her friendship with Madge would be more believable if she carried a gift from her into the arena.

‘Thank you. I think I will take it with me.’

Madge nodded, a smile breaking onto her face. ‘Good, I’m glad.’ She looked at the clock on the wall, and said, ‘I better get going. I’m sure other people will want to visit you.’

Their farewell was awkward – for a moment it appeared as if Madge was going to hug Rose, but the redhead tensed in anticipation of the contact. It was too soon; Rose was still far from trusting the other woman. Madge noticed her reticence and smiled sadly, settling instead for a squeeze on the arm that she hoped was reassuring.

As she was departing, she said in a voice that was barely above a whisper, ‘May the odds be ever in your favour, Rose.’

Rose felt oddly empty after Madge left. She hadn’t given her much thought since the initial rejection – originally, she had been upset and the tried to avoid thinking of her altogether. Eventually, thoughts of Madge were automatically sent to the swirling pool of resentment that was raging in Rose’s stomach at most given times.

But now – _No! I can’t think about this right now. I have a Game to win. People who go into that arena distracted end up splattered on the ground within the first few minutes. That will **not** be me._

As Rose was re-orienting and re-focusing herself, the door opened once again. She looked up in surprise – she’d expected to spend this hour in quiet contemplation, once again running through her strategy for the upcoming days. Madge’s visit had been something of a shock, though not entirely detrimental to her plans. She had a feeling that this next one would not be as… enlightening.

Her eyes narrowed and her face took on a sour expression as she saw Elena enter the room. ‘What are you doing here?’ She snapped, loudly and with more venom than was probably advisable in a room that had peacekeepers stationed outside of it.

‘Is that any way to speak to your dear step-mother?’ Replied Elena mockingly, while she took several steps towards Rose. ‘Especially now that you need me.’

 _How dare she. How dare she come here in the wake of my triumph and accuse me of being…beholdent to her, somehow._ Anger that had been coiling in her stomach since before her father’s death sprung forth then. She’d always hated Elena, but had been somewhat… hesitant to express it verbally, instead settling for loaded silences and resentful looks. Now, there was nothing holding her back.

‘Need you? I don’t need you. I have **never** needed you. The most useful thing you have ever done for me was leave me in the woods with a bow in my hand and instructions to come home with dinner or not come home at all. You intended for me to die that day, but I survived. I survived and I grew stronger. Now I’m leaving this shithole, and when I come back, it will be to a house in Victor’s Village. I will live in the lap of luxury, and you will stay in the Seam and slowly starve to death without me there to provide food for you. And I will enjoy every minute of it.’

Rose’s voice was icily cold, and Elena took a step back. She knew that her step-daughter loathed her – that much was evident from the way that she’d look at her with contempt, and, though the girl tried to hide it, fear – but she’d never thought that Rose would announce it so… blatantly. Try as she would to ignore it, her words unnerved Elena.

‘But you do need me. As far as anyone else is aware, I’ve been your doting step-mother all these years. The Capitol crew will want to interview me to corroborate whatever story I’m sure you have planned. You wouldn’t want me to contradict anything you say now, would you?’

Rose was still running of a high after her previous outburst. She’d wanted to say that to Elena for years, but had always bit her tongue. They had to live together, after all, and although the slaps had stopped after Rose started going to the woods and become stronger than Elena, memory was a powerful deterrent.

Nevertheless, she was forced to consider the other woman’s words. _She has a point_. It could be damaging to Rose’s reputation if Elena degraded her on live TV. But the thought of putting up with any more of her shit when she no longer had to grated intolerably on Rose’s nerves. _Anyway_ , she reasoned, _Madge has promised that she’ll speak well of me. It’s not as if Elena will be the only voice speaking about me_. Rose disliked being reliant on other people to this degree, but it was one aspect of the Games that she could not take control of.

‘Say what you want about me. I don’t care. I’ll win without your help, and it’ll be all the sweeter for it. You have no sway over any part of my life from this moment on.’ Rose allowed herself to smile triumphantly at the other woman, bearing her teeth as she did so. ‘Close the door on your way out.’

‘You’ll regret that,’ Elena promised, before doing as Rose suggested and leaving the room.

Just as she was about to resume the position on the chair by the fire that she had occupied before visitation began, the door opened once again. Two peacekeepers walked into the room, dressed in their usual white, impersonal armour and carrying guns.

‘It’s time to go,’ one of them announced, ‘Wouldn’t want you to miss the train to the Capitol.’ The words had been meant mockingly, a cruel jibe to a terrified tribute.

But Rose wasn’t afraid.

She smiled at the man, injecting her expression with the malice that she knew would inspire fear in her competition and said, ‘Yes, let’s go.  I’d hate to keep the Capitol waiting.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd originally intended to have both Rose and Luisa's reapings in the same chapter, but this got quite long so I thought I'd post them separately. It meant a quicker update for you guys :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I invented a couple of OCs in this chapter, and tried to follow the pattern of District One names we were given in the book. They sound ridiculous together, but I'm pretty sure they're meant to.  
> -I used some Spanish in this chapter and tried to give a context as to how it's still around since there's absolutely no mention of it in the books. I don't actually speak it so apologies if there's any errors.  
> -Big thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments on the last few chapters, I'd appreciate it if you could leave more, I love hearing what you think!

Luisa awoke on the morning of the reaping with a warm, small body curled up with her own. Luisa smiled, and ran a soothing hand down the young girl’s dark, curly hair.

Jane had arrived at her room the night before in considerable distress, much the same as she had been that morning in the rec room. She hadn’t wanted to cause her parents further anxiety, so she’d come to Luisa.

Few people in District One would have been sympathetic to Jane’s plight. To them, the night before the reaping was a cause for celebration. A lot of foolish twelve-year-olds had sleepovers with their friends where they talked excitedly about who the likely candidates would be this year, and whether or not they’d be “brave” enough to volunteer. Older children went out to pubs or bars and would boast drunkenly about how they’d volunteer and then return victorious to Victor’s Village.

Luisa had never done that. On the eve of her first reaping, she’d been in a state similar to Jane’s. Her father had noticed that she was anxious, and arranged a special surprise for her. He’d managed to scrounge up all her old dolls from wherever they’d been stored and arranged them around a table in Luisa’s room, then proceeded to throw a full-on tea party – just like the ones that she had loved to have when she was little. Twelve-year-old Luisa loudly protested that she was too old for such a thing, but her father had smiled knowingly and urged her to give it a try. Sure enough, after some initial awkwardness, Luisa had had a good time, and the reaping was driven far from her mind.

So she did the same thing with Jane. Like Luisa before her, Jane had been sceptical at the idea of a tea party, but had quickly come around when she realised how fun and distracting it proved to be. Eventually, she’d fallen asleep while sprawled across Luisa’s bed, and Luisa hadn’t had the heart to move her.

_Now though_ , Luisa thought forlornly, _I should probably wake her up_.

‘Jane,’ she whispered, shaking her lightly, ‘It’s time to get up. We have to get ready.’

Jane groaned, and there was more to this groan than a pre-teen simply not wanting to get out of bed. She continued to run a hand down the girls’ hair, and said, ‘C’mon, I know you don’t want to go. I didn’t either, but not getting out of bed won’t help. They’ll just come and get you, and that won’t be pretty.’

Jane sighed. ‘I know. Just give me a couple more minutes to get myself together.’

Luisa relented, and walked over to the wardrobe to put on the outfit that she’d selected for today. It was expected that everyone wear their nicest clothes on reaping day, and in a district that specialised in the production of luxury goods, it could become quite a lavish affair. She eventually settled on a royal blue cocktail dress. The skirt was loose and allowed her to move relatively freely, and the bodice was decorated with silver rhinestones that sparkled whenever the light caught them. She left her hair down, and after a couple of minutes under the ministrations of her curling iron, it settled elegantly along her back.

Jane watched this process unfold and the sheer routine of it marginally soothed her frayed nerves. She took a deep breath, an image of her father coming to mind as she did so. _Inala, Exhala._ Those words were technically forbidden - the Capitol had done its’ best to stamp out the existence of other languages – burning books, preventing the publication of new ones, et cetera – but they had still survived orally. Jane spoke it almost continuously with her parents and _abeula_ , as well as occasionally with Luisa or Rafael – they were determined that it not be forgotten, despite the efforts of the Capitol.

She rose from the bed, and joined Luisa in getting ready. She’d brought her dress up to the room the night before, so all that had to be done was to put it on. Luisa helped her do her hair and make-up, whispering reassurances to her as she did so.

When all their preparations were complete, Luisa took the young girl’s hand and said quietly, ‘It’s time to go.’

* * *

 

By the time that they reached the courtyard where the reaping was being held, it was already packed with people – all dressed in their very finest clothes. It was impossible to turn anywhere without catching glimpses of sparkles or garishly bright colours. Capitol camera crews were everywhere, interviewing some of the more elaborately dressed people about their outfits. By Capitol standards, the outfits of District One were quaint and conservative but they nevertheless enjoyed voting for the best dressed potential tribute. One girl had been ecstatic to win this dubious honour one year, only to be reaped the next. The Capitol just couldn’t get enough of her.

She’d died in the early days of her Games – a keen dress sense wasn’t much use in an arena where everyone was required to wear the same outfit.

Luisa gave Jane’s hand a final squeeze, and then directed her towards the space designated to the other twelve-year-old girls. It was near the back, as usually District One had very few twelve-year-old tributes. ‘You have to stand in this area. Why don’t you go and find some friends from school? You could arrange to do something fun after, because I promise you that everything is going to be okay. You’re not going to wind up in the Games.’ She smiled then, in a way that she hoped was reassuring.

It didn’t look like Jane particularly believed her, but she nevertheless took her place in her assigned zone with minimal argument and a brave smile.

Luisa was left to make her way over to the other eighteen-year-olds. She wasn’t on good terms with most of the people in her year, and still outright despised a lot of them. They’d mostly stopped physically harassing her since she’d learnt to fight back, though Marvel was still a particular annoyance. She could see him now, leering at her from across the courtyard. _Ugh._

Despite everything, Luisa had managed to carve out a small friend group for herself. They were all misfits, of a sort – people who weren’t quite accepted into the rigid societal structure of District One. Jade lived in the Community Home after her parents had died in a work-related accident – those were uncommon but not unheard of. Many of the kids in the home were more desperate than others to enter the Games and thus win the lifestyle of a Victor. Like Luisa, Jade had not been inclined towards fighting and was also tormented for it. The shared experience had given them common ground, a starting point in conversation – and their friendship had grown from there.

Sapphire was different. She’d enjoyed training, enjoyed the physicality and the stress relief that it provided. Unlike the others, she didn’t use the skills she gained from it to bully or intimidate those who couldn’t fight back. However, she had no qualms about using them to defend people. That’s how she and Luisa had met – Marvel had been harassing her after a long day, and Sapphire had interceded. At that point, Luisa was more than capable of fighting him off but still appreciated not having to.

She picked out her two friends in the crowd, and made her way over to them. They had time to exchange friendly greetings, but little else. Almost as soon as they encountered one another, the National Anthem began playing and the Mayor walked onto the stage to the rapturous applause of the crowd.

He gave his usual speech about the glory of the Capitol, what an honour it is to participate in the Games blah, blah, blah, but Luisa had a hard time paying attention to it. She kept looking back to the twelve-year-old section, checking on how Jane was doing. The younger girl’s posture was rigid and she seemed to be listening far more closely than anyone ever bothered to, as if paying attention to the propagandised version of history would make her less likely to be chosen. Luisa desperately wanted to go over there and tell her that everything would be okay one last time.

Behind they Mayor, the stage was almost full to bursting. District One had produced so many Victors in the seventy four years since the Games began that they had a hard time accommodating them all. A few years ago, Victors Village had to be extended in order to house all of them. It now resembled a small housing estate. She could see Rogelio on the stage, dressed in his signature purple suit, though he seemed to be having problems maintaining his normal ease with the cameras. Like Luisa, he kept anxiously casting looks in Jane’s direction.

Before too long, Esteban Santiago – escort to District One and known rival of Rogelio – was called out on stage. He had an excellent reputation in his field – his wealth of connections amongst the Capitol elite came in very useful when sponsorship money was needed, and he always made sure that his tributes were well-presented and appeared on time to Games related events. Luisa, however, had grown up listening to Rogelio’s endless complaints about the man and found it hard to form an unbiased opinion about him.

He walked over to the microphone and bid everyone welcome to the Seventy Fourth Annual Hunger Games. He announced this in a way that a musical act at a concert may be announced, throwing in a wink to the cameras for good measure. The crowd applauded wildly. Esteban took this in his stride, and walked over to the large glass bowl that held the names of the potential female tributes. He picked one slip seemingly at random and unfurled it dramatically.

‘Jane Villaneuva.’

Luisa’s blood turned to ice, and the world seemed to slow around her. On stage, Rogelio was barely able to keep the agony from showing on his face. A blonde woman beside him – Cashmere, Luisa thought absently – grabbed his arm in a vice grip and was whispering urgently to him, presumably reminding him not to react.

Jane began her ascent to the stage. She was trembling, but clearly trying to keep tears at bay. Crying after being reaped was always taken as a sign of weakness, and it became practically impossible to win any sponsors afterward. When she reached Esteban, he asked loudly with a voice lacking his usual verve if anyone was willing to take her place.

Luisa didn’t need to think twice before stepping forward. ‘I volunteer as tribute.’

Shock rippled through the crowd. An eighteen-year-old volunteering in District One was hardly unusual – they made up the bulk of their tributes, after all – but one in a reaping that was obviously political and with a well-known aversion to the Games was.

She walked shakily up to the stage, putting on as brave a face as she could muster. Instead of the applause that usually greeted a tribute, there was dead silence. The cameras weren’t sure what to do with it. By the time that Luisa had reached Esteban, Jane was still up there and had given up all pre-tense of trying not to cry. Luisa couldn’t be sure if it was out of sadness or relief – likely a mix of both. They were made to shake hands, in order to symbolise that there were “no hard feelings” after Luisa had “usurped” Jane’s chance. It took everything that Luisa had to not break down at that moment.

After Jane had retreated back to the twelve-year-old section, Esteban continued the reaping. Luisa didn’t hear the name of whatever male tribute was called – she was busy thinking numbly of the days ahead of her. _I can’t do this_.

There was a minor scuffle, as several boys tried to volunteer at once. A tall, blonde eighteen-year old emerged victorious and joined her on the stage. She realised with a jolt that she knew that face – disappointingly, familiarly well – It was Marvel.

When they turned to shake eachother’s hands, he shot her an arrogant smirk. _I’m going to enjoy crushing you_ , it seemed to say. This was accompanied by an attempt to injure her hand by squeezing it forcefully while he shook it.

Luisa decided right then that, although these next few weeks would be hell and she would likely be dead at the end of them, she wanted to ensure that Marvel went down with her.

* * *

 

The luxurious interior of District One’s Justice Building was a sight to behold. The wallpaper was elaborate, and many often found themselves whiling away long minutes before meetings tracing the intricate patterns with their eyes. The rooms were tastefully furnished, and lit by several elegant chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Few buildings in District One could compete with the Justice Building for sheer luxury, though it was sometimes whispered that the Marbella gave it a run for its money.

Luisa was unable to appreciate any of it. She walked numbly through the elaborate corridor towards the visitation room with her mind still reeling, processing the consequences of what she’d just done. She sank into an armchair by the fire and put her head in her hands, which were shaking as she did so. _What have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done. I can’t enter the Games. I can’t I can’t I can’t._ Tears began to fall from her eyes, and Luisa began to feel herself give over to them.

Then, the door opened and she heard someone come rushing in. She knew it was probably a family member, and so she wiped at her eyes forcefully, willing any traces of tears to disappear. She didn’t want what would likely be her family’s last memory of her to be one of defeat – she would be strong for them.

When she finished hastily composing herself, she looked up and her father was suddenly beside her. He took her in his arms, and her resolve to keep it together almost crumbled. He smoothed her hair, whispering reassuring words as he did. His own voice seemed to be on the verge of breaking, but like his daughter, he was trying to hold it in.

‘That was a very brave thing that you did, _mi amada hija_. I know you may think that all is lost, but you can do this. You can come home. You’re stronger than you know, and you have more personality than many of the people we normally send. Show them that, and how can they not love you?’

Luisa wanted to believe that, but it was difficult. She spent her life fighting the kind of people who volunteered for these Games, and knew what they’d be like in the arena. She’d have to face five of them, as well as wildcards from other districts. She didn’t fancy her chances.

‘I’ll try my best to win, but if- if I don’t, will you look after Jane? Make sure that she’s okay, it’ll hit her hard. And Raf – don’t come at him too hard with hotel stuff. He needs to be a kid for a while longer.’ Her voice was becoming increasingly hysterical – the prospect of not returning and the effect that would have on her loved ones was becoming all too real.

‘Of course I will. But none of that will be necessary, because you will come home. I will never stop hoping for that. Never. I am so, so proud of you.’

They stayed holding each other for a while longer, each trying to solidify what could be their last meeting, brave words and hopes aside. After a while, Emilio pulled away from his daughter and said, ‘I should go now, there are others who want to -’ he paused, about to say “tell you goodbye”, but reconsidered his words –‘Wish you good luck. I love you, Luisa. May the odds be ever in your favour.’

He looked at his daughter and smiled sadly, before leaving the room. Luisa sagged back into the armchair, any semblance of her brave expression disappearing. That had been a difficult interaction – though she’d been close with her father as a child, their relationship had become strained in recent years. He’d never approved of her decision not to train, and of the consequences that followed it. He also disliked the manner in which she entertained the visitors from the Capitol, claiming it wasn’t appropriate for her to drink that much with them.

That didn’t matter now. He’d been there for her in the end. Perhaps if she survived the Games, they’d be able to talk out their issues.

Luisa barely had time to process her father’s visit before the doors opened again, admitting Rafael. He walked into the room nervously, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to act or behave in this new situation. Rafael knew that he could always count on his older sister to be there for him, and couldn’t remember a time when that wasn’t true – it was frightening to think that circumstances beyond their control could stop that from happening in the future.

But he was proud of her. He knew how much she reviled the Games, and to volunteer in place of Jane despite that… it was the bravest thing he’d ever seen. He thought that if he could have, he’d’ve done the same.

Any reservations that he had flew out of the window when he saw his sister. This could very well be the last time that they saw each other in person, and he wasn’t going to waste it. He threw his arms around her, clutching her hard and screwing his eyes shut, as if he was trying to solidify the memory in his mind.

Luisa wasn’t particularly tall, but at eighteen she was pretty much fully grown. Rafael wasn’t quite as big as her yet, and his head just about reached her shoulder. _That’ll change in time though_ , Luisa thought, somewhat absurdly. It was as if her mind was desperately trying to latch on to any thought that would distract her from her current situation.

Rafael pulled away and looked up at his sister, not yet old enough to mask the distress in his eyes. Luisa opened her mouth to speak, to tell him to take care of himself, that she’d miss him – but he cut her off before she got the chance.

‘No. Don’t even say it. Don’t tell me to look after myself, or that we’ll be okay without you. We won’t need to be, because you’re coming back. You’re coming back.’ He said this angrily and emphatically, as if he was trying to convince himself of the fact almost as much as his sister.

She closed her eyes, willing away the tears that were rapidly forming. ‘Raf… I’ll do my best. I promise you that I will. But – ’ she sighed. ‘I don’t know if it’ll be enough.’

Rafael bit his lip, looking at the ground for a moment. He seemed defeated, his earlier anger dissipating and turning into a deep sadness. He knew that she’d never be able to ally with traditional career tributes after what she’d gone through here, but rejecting them would only make her a bigger target. He nodded mutely. ‘I understand. But – try, okay?’

They embraced one last time, before Rafael left, allowing the final visitor to enter the room. Jane walked in slowly, as if in a daze – she still couldn’t believe any of this was happening. Her face was streaked with tears, which she made little effort to hide. She knew there was no point in pretending in front of Luisa – the other woman had always been able to read her like an open book.

She threw herself into Luisa’s open arms, and they stayed in that position for a while – neither talking, just absorbing the other’s presence. After some time, Jane began sobbing again. ‘I can’t believe you did that for me. I don’t know whether I should be glad that I won’t be in the Games or devastated that you will.’

Luisa smoothed Jane’s hair, unconsciously mirroring her actions from earlier that morning, and smiled sadly. ‘You’re allowed to feel both. I know that I do.’

‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry that this happened, that you’re going into the Games for me, I’m sorry for causing this mess in the first place, I – I’m just sorry.’

Luisa responded vehemently to Jane’s apologies, her voice soft but firm. ‘No. Don’t apologise for that, **none** of this was your fault. You didn’t ask me to volunteer for you, you didn’t ask to be reaped, you didn’t ask to be _born_ the daughter of a Victor, for crying out loud.’

‘I’m just – I’m sorry that this had to happen to either of us.’

Luisa sighed. ‘Me too, Jane, me too.’

There was a loud rap on the door then, and a harsh voice announced, ‘Five minutes. Hurry it up.’

The two clung even tighter to each other. ‘Try to win. Please,’ Jane whispered, ‘Come back to me.’

Luisa could do nothing but nod mutely, too emotionally drained to do much else. She didn’t regret her decision to volunteer for Jane – not one bit, this visit had only solidified that certainty – but as much as she wanted to promise her that she’d be back, that this wouldn’t be the last time that they would see each other, she couldn’t. Luisa genuinely didn’t think she stood a chance at winning. All she could do was promise that she’d try. And Luisa knew that she would – for Jane, for Rafael, for her father – for them, she’d try. She’d try to come home, to win.

She just hoped she wouldn’t have to sacrifice too much of herself to do so.

The door banged open then, revealing two peacekeepers clad in white armour that obscured any humane details that they might possess, each carrying a lethal looking weapon. When Luisa and Jane didn’t break apart, one of them grabbed her roughly, yanking her away from the girl she’d come to think of as a sister.

‘It’s time to go. The Capitol awaits.’


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose enjoys the ride to the Capitol, and gets to know both her mentor and her escort before settling down to watch the reapings in other districts, where she is immediately taken with the girl from District One.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone enjoys this, I had some lovely comments on the last chapter so thanks for that :)   
> There's some unflattering description of alcoholism in this chapter (not Luisa), so be warned.

Rose walked towards the train station, escorted by two armed guards. Her posture radiated confidence, and the cameras that trailed her along the way positively ate it up. Madge’s visit had temporarily derailed her, causing holes to appear in the story that she had told herself for years. _That_ was an ambiguity that she couldn’t afford. However, standing up to Elena after years of biting her tongue had buoyed her, providing an extra boost to the determination that she now wore comfortably. Her demeanour unnerved the guards, who were twitching uncomfortably, not quite sure what to do with themselves – they were used to escorting scared children, who had to be torn away from their families and partially dragged to the station. Rose noticed this, and it only served to increase her confidence.

The train itself was elaborate – its interior was more like something she’d expect to find in a luxurious mansion rather than in something designed to transport people. She’d never been on a train before – she’d never actually been outside of District 12 – but she was sure that most were not like this. District 12 didn’t see much traffic, as most of the trains that came in and out of it were for transporting coal. They were cold and utilitarian on the outside, and Rose imagined that they’d be similar on the inside. Nothing like this, at any rate.

Effie was waiting for her at one of the tables. She was still wearing her outfit from the reaping, and was eager to see her tributes. There hadn’t been a volunteer during her time as escort, so this was virgin territory for her. Her eyes were bright and her smile high – she seemed eager to get started. She gestured for Rose and the male tribute – whose name Rose still couldn’t recall – to join her. There was no sign of Haymitch anywhere, though Rose could only assume he was on the train.

‘Welcome, welcome! We have a lot to get through before we reach the Capitol so if you would be so kind as to take a seat, and we can get started right away!’

They did as she’d indicated, and sat down across from her. The chair was comfortable, made out of some kind of smooth material – silk, Rose thought – though she’d only seen it before once or twice in her life.

‘Now, do either of you have any questions before we begin?’

‘Yes. Where is Haymitch? He should be here, I – we -  need to go over strategy with him.’

Effie sighed with frustration, her voice was tinged with annoyance – this must be a frequent complaint. ‘Yes, you are right, of course. Haymitch is here, probably in the bar car. Experience has taught me, my dear, that he is never much use on the first day. It is best to wait until the morning, and ambush him at breakfast before he has the chance to imbibe too much.’

Rose was not impressed. She’d been training for years for this – pouring over books in the library, watching vids of old Games – but only so much information could be gleaned from that. She needed to talk to someone who had actually been in the Games, and Haymitch was her only option. She swallowed her irritation, and said to Effie in as polite a tone as she could currently manage (it would pay to keep both her mentor and her escort on her side, after all – both were vital to the process of attaining sponsors – and she wasn’t naïve enough to think she wouldn’t need that edge in the arena, ‘What is it that you intend to do with us until this evening, then?’

Effie, appreciative of Rose’s efforts to be polite but obviously sensing the exasperation beneath them, said placatingly, ‘It is my duty to teach you both etiquette. Through no fault of your own, of course, but many of the children that are chosen simply possess no table manners or other matters of simple decorum. Cameras will be on you almost constantly when you arrive at the Capitol my dears, and sponsors will be able to see any faux-pas that are made. We in the Capitol have been raised to expect a certain level of etiquette, and to see a tribute fall short of that level is most off-putting for potential sponsors.’

Rose felt another flare of irritation – she had important questions to ask! –but she forced it down. There was some sense in what the other woman was saying. Children who’ve had to fight for every meal couldn’t be expected to possess proper table manners – they ate like the food in front of them may be snatched away any minute, which, of course, it could have been -  and many could not even manage the use of a knife and fork. The poorest Seam families often didn’t possess such utensils. She could see how that would be damaging to potential sponsors. Rose’s upbringing in the town had instilled many of these principles in her, and she supposed that it would be the same for her obviously town-born District counterpart, but it couldn’t hurt to brush up. The exchange also gave her a better idea on how to approach Effie – the woman obviously appreciated manners and politesse, so if Rose continually displayed them, it shouldn’t be too hard to win her over to her side.

She nodded, ‘That sounds useful. Although, I was wondering if afterwards, we could watch the reapings of the other districts? I would like to get a look at-’ _my competition_ , she’d been about to say, but thought better of it – ‘the other tributes.’

Effie nodded approvingly. ‘That sounds like a wonderful idea. But first, we shall begin the lesson.’ She gestured to the man in the corner, presumably a waiter, ‘Bring out the food, if you please, the tributes are ready to begin their first test!’

‘Now Rose, Daniel-’ _Daniel, that was his name!_ ‘-it is important that you sit up straight and comport yourselves with dignity at all times, but especially during meals. You will eat breakfast and the evening meal in the penthouse of the training centre, with Haymitch and myself – there are relatively few cameras there, and the content of it will not be broadcast – but the midday meal will be shared with the other tributes. Cameras will be there, and the contents will most definitely be broadcast – there will be little sound, they feel that that gives away too much of a tributes personality, as gamemakers prefer the audience the discover that for themselves – but they will be able to see you, and consequently any misdemeanours that you perform. One year, our tributes completely disregarded my lessons and proceeded to make utter pigs of themselves. It disgusted any sponsors watching, and Haymitch and I found it difficult to gather together any money to send them. Therefore, it is imperative that you pay attention to my teachings now, and carry them forwards with you into training.’

Food was brought out then, and Rose found herself understanding the desire to neglect Effie’s lessons. She had never seen so much food in her life, or so varied a spread. Daniel seemed less impressed than she – he was obviously used to more food than she was – but he wasn’t unaffected either.

Effie seemed to notice that they were veering into dangerous territory, so she announced her next point loudly, trying to break the spell that the food had placed them under. ‘Now, we will begin with a soup course -  this is a simple dish, but one that is very easy to appear unrefined while eating. Use a spoon, eat it slowly from the side of the spoon, and absolutely no slurping. Give it a try.’

Rose didn’t need telling twice – it took large amount of self-restraint to prevent herself from diving right in and demolishing it immediately. She forced herself to sit up straight and delicately lower the spoon into the bowl. She groaned when it came into contact with her mouth, unable to help herself – it was the best thing she had ever tasted, bar none.  

Effie bit her lip, then smiled at Rose’s reaction. ‘Though your host is sure to be glad that you appreciate their food, perhaps demonstrate it in less obvious a fashion, in the future. Perhaps a simple compliment.’ Her words were as prim and proper as ever, but there was a twinkle in her eyes that belied her amusement. Rose couldn’t find it in herself to care about the potential embarrassment, the food was just too good. She continued to dig in, this time mindful to minimise her audible reactions. They made their way through the various courses slowly, and if it hadn’t already been the best day of Rose’s life, this meal would have clinched the deal anyway.

When it was over, Rose was left feeling more full than she had in her entire life. It was a pleasant feeling, one that she could get used to. This would be what awaited her when she won her Games. Why would Victors blow their salaries on alcohol or morphling, when they could blow it on this instead?

Rose was beginning to relax when Effie opened her mouth and said, ‘Well, I believe you have both performed admirably enough. You won’t send sponsors running, at any rate, so long as you remember this lesson while you are at the training centre. We can go and watch the reapings now, if you still want to, dear?’

She realised with a jolt that she’d forgotten about Effie’s earlier promise – that wasn’t good. She couldn’t let things that were ultimately trivial distract her from winning. There would be time enough for that after. ‘Yes, of course.’

As they were rising to walk into a room more appropriate to watch them in, Daniel raised his hand nervously. ‘Um, Miss Trinket? If it’s okay with you, I think I’d rather go to bed. It’s been a long day, and I don’t think that seeing the people who’ll be trying to kill me in a few days will be very helpful.’

Effie frowned, but acceded to his wishes. ‘Of course, dear. You do what you feel is best.’ Despite her conciliatory tone, she seemed disappointed. Effie was a woman who valued preparation, and so Rose’s mentality was naturally more appealing to her. ‘Your room is just down the hall, on the left. There will be night gear laid out for you, I imagine.’

Rose followed Effie towards the room that she’d deemed appropriate to view the reapings in. If she’d thought that the room that she was sent to in the Justice Building was fancy, it was nothing compared to this. There was a comfortable looking couch near the wall, made out of yet more silk, and across from it was a large, expensive-looking television. Effie began fiddling with it, searching for the right channel as Rose sank onto the sofa and further admired the room. The chandelier dangling above her was elaborate, and provided the room with excellent lighting.  There were several paintings on the walls – many of them depicting natural scenes from what Rose can only assume was the world before Panem. She can dimly recall seeing pictures of some of the phenomena in old geography textbooks, but nothing with this artistry. As hard as the Capitol tried to suppress images of the past, they’d been more lenient with portrayals of natural landscapes – they served well as inspirations for arenas, after all.

‘There we are!’ declared Effie triumphantly, as the large screen flickered to life. ‘Sorry about the delay, dear, I’m not much good with technology. The reapings should be starting any minute.’ She sat down next to Rose, and turned her attention towards the screen, where Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith were drumming up anticipation for the Games, recalling with relish previous Victors and sharing stories of their favourite moments.

The reaping in District One was shown first. The camera spent an undue amount of time lingering lovingly in the square, showcasing the very best of the outfits on display. Some of the most elaborately dressed were interviewed by members of the Capitol news crew, brought to the District for specifically that purpose. The vast majority of people in District 12 could not afford anything half so showy, and she knew that even the wealthiest town-folk would also struggle. Rose noted with some satisfaction that had there been crews in Twelve to interview the best-dressed, she would have undoubtedly been chosen.

The Reaping began with the usual fanfare, and Rose quickly found herself growing bored. She did note with some interest that the Mayor seemed to tell a different story about why the Games were necessary than the one in Twelve was inclined to – he seemed more genuinely thankful to the Capitol, and placed emphasis on the honour that the Games were supposedly demonstrated. Finally, the name of the female was announced  - someone called Jane Villaneuva. Rose could feel the shock rippling through the crowd, and was inclined to agree with them. This Jane girl appeared to be only twelve years old. It was rare but not unheard of for someone so young to be reaped. Rose felt uneasy about this – she was determined to win, but would prefer not to do so by slaughtering children so much younger than her. She needn’t have worried, as almost as soon as the girl’s name had been announced, another rushed to take her place. Again, in a career district, this was nothing unusual – and Rose began to examine her body critically. She was short, but seemed well-built. Her dress ended before the knee, and had no sleeves to speak of, so Rose could see the well-defined muscles that she sported. Rose looked up to her face, and stopped short – she was beautiful, the most beautiful person that Rose had ever seen.

This was a relatively new sensation for her – boys in school would leer at her, but then roll their eyes or sneer when she volunteered a correct answer in class. They’d always vaguely disgusted her, and Rose couldn’t understand why girls in her year would fawn over them so. She’d focused herself on her training, on becoming as strong and as cunning as she could be.

 She hadn’t always been disinterested, though - while she’d lived in the town, she’d only been a young teenager, but her group of friends had been keen to explore their burgeoning sexualities and Rose had been attractive even then. She remembered kissing Madge one day – it had been just a light peck, a quick brushing of their lips together – and Madge had pulled away, giggling. Rose had laughed along with her, but internally felt confusion – she’d wanted more. When she’d been forced to the Seam and her friendship with the girl had disintegrated, it had become just one more memory to repress.

Now, though, she felt it rushing back, and couldn’t help but stare at this woman from District One. She watched the way that she moved and absorbed every subtle detail not with the eyes of a tactician, but with those of an admirer. She was truly beautiful.

 It took her an embarrassingly long time to tear herself away from more superficial aspects and really take in her face  - the woman seemed to be putting on a brave face, which Rose was approving of, but this was not the triumphant look of a Career tribute who was on the beginning of a journey of a lifetime. Rose would know. Behind the forced smile, she seemed scared. Normally, Rose would dismiss this as weakness right off the bat, but she found herself wanting to make excuses for this woman, to make her worthy of this admiration that she was heaping on her. It didn’t take her long to find one – this was a woman who clearly did not want to enter the Games, yet volunteered for some reason. It must have something to do with the girl who was reaped initially – the crowd were suspiciously quiet when she was chosen, and the usual scuffle over who gets the “honour” of volunteering was absent. The woman must have known the girl well, and elected to take her place. That took bravery, and Rose found that the admiration rising up inside of her was genuine.

She would be one to look out for, this girl from District One.

The rest of the reaping was fairly standard. The male tribute seemed to be the typical career moron, more brawn than brains. Rose felt anger on behalf of the woman – Luisa, as the escort announced on stage, a pretty name for a pretty person – as the blonde fool grasped her hand with the intention of causing her pain. Perhaps Rose would repay the favour in the arena, only more lethally.

Rose forced her tactical mind to snap back into place as she watched the reapings in other districts. Like District One, District Two had its’ usual flock of volunteers. She doubted either of these two volunteered out of any altruistic reasons, though she could hardly judge them for it. Both appeared lethal – the girl was tiny, though must have been an older teenager because younger ones typically waited until they were older to volunteer. Her arms in particular were very muscular, and she looked at the camera with such ferocity that Rose knew that she would be a formidable foe in the arena. The boy was large and muscular, and looked as if he’d be able to snap her in half without breaking a sweat. She’d have to pick him off from a distance.

The kids from District Three were weedy and looked underfed. Many tended to discount this district because they generally weren’t fighters, but Rose remembered watching an old Games in the library where one of their tributes won by electrocuting almost half the field. She wouldn’t be so quick to write them off.

None of the tributes from the other districts particularly stood out to her – there was a girl with flaming red hair similar to Rose’s own whom had an especially shrewd look about her – but none looked exceptionally intimidating until, of course, the cameras reached District Eleven. Much like District Twelve, it had been years since Eleven had had a victor. Their people tended to be underfed and ill-prepared for combat situations, neither of which was very appealing to sponsors. Rose felt something in her stomach twist when the female tribute was announced – it was another twelve-year-old, and this time, there was no-one there to stand in for her. Rose just didn’t think there was any honour or perhaps more importantly, any glory in beating someone that was that much smaller than herself. She’d much rather take on the brutes from the Career districts. She’d give the girl credit, though  - she didn’t bat an eye, and walked calmly to the stage even when hearing the screams of what must have been her relatives. The male tribute was selected then, and Rose did a double take – he was huge. He was well over six feet tall and powerfully built. He had a quiet dignity that radiated a kind of lethal charisma. Like the girl before him, he went to the stage without flinching, and managed to look intimidating while he did it. Sponsors would appreciate that. Rose internally marked him as someone to avoid if possible, or again take out from a distance if not.

Watching the reapings had given Rose a valuable insight into the strategies she’d likely need to employ – many of the tributes were bigger or more powerful than her, so she’d need to get her hands on a bow or some other kind of long-distance weapon.

Effie cleared her throat, and trilled, ‘Well, that’s that. I imagine you’ve formed a decent first impression of your competition by now, and it’s time for you to get to bed. It’s going to be another big, big day tomorrow!’

* * *

 

Rose was in the process of retreating to her room as Effie suggested – the woman could come across as utterly ridiculous on TV, largely due to the eccentric Capitol fashions and often inappropriately sunny disposition, Rose supposed – but she was coming to realise that there was a clever tactical head underneath all of that. She could appreciate that, and as things stood, she trusted the escort to be able to acquire sponsors more effectively than her mentor.

As she was about to retire to the room designated for her own use – not without some enthusiasm, as it would be nice to sleep on a proper bed for once, instead of her cold, hard mattress – she heard an odd retching sound coming from the room next to hers. Suspicious, she decided to investigate. It would only bother her all night otherwise.

She walked cautiously into the next room, ready to respond to any dangers that might be within, but was immediately repulsed by what she saw. Haymitch was on the ground, lying in a pool of his own vomit. He seemed to be on the verge of unconsciousness, and had yet to realise that Rose was there. It was disgusting, and she was tempted to leave him in that condition.

But then she remembered that, in the Games, he may be the only difference between life and death. She needed him, and it galled her. She had been relying on no-one but herself since she had left the Town, and liked it that way. Fewer people could let her down that way. She gritted her teeth and prepared herself to do what needed to be done.

Perhaps some tough love was in order.

She turned him onto his side to prevent him from choking on his own vomit, before delivering a swift but reasonably gentle kick to his knee – she didn’t want to piss him off _too_ much. ‘Haymitch. Get up.’

‘Wha- wha’ was tha’ for?’ He asked, slurring heavily. He squinted at her then, asking in as suspicious a voice as he could manage in his current state, ‘Who’re you?’

Rose levelled a glare at him, which seemed to jog his memory. ‘Mmmmm.. I remember you. You’re the id-idiot that vol’teered for the Games.’ He snorted, ‘Stupid. Nothin’ good comes from the Games, you mark m’words.’

Rose, ignorant of the life of a Victor and unable to comprehend how fame and luxury could be anything other than perfect, was regretting her decision to enter the room. She should’ve just left him there, but it was too late to back out now, he’d already seen her – though how much he’d remember in the morning was doubtful. That thought probably should have crossed her mind before she started. She rolled her eyes, and walked over to him, choosing a part of his body with less vomit on it than most and hauling him up. It took some effort – he was heavy, and not being all that helpful to lift the dead weight. She eventually got him upright and slung his arm over her shoulder. She wrinkled her nose – he smelled about as well as he looked.

With some difficulty, she managed to wrangle him across the hall to the bathroom. By this time, her charitable patience, such as it was, had reached its’ limit. She stripped him out of his vomit-covered clothes, and said brusquely, ‘You think you can manage to shower without drowning yourself?’

Haymitch muttered something unintelligible and floundered around for a minute, and Rose wasn’t sure that he would be able to. But she really was at the end of her tether – she could feel her always present temper begin to simmer, and she was covered in vomit that was not her own. Leaving now before she did something that she’d regret was probably the best outcome for everyone.

On her way out, she ran into come Capitol attendants in the corridor. She sighed, and said to them, ‘Haymitch needs help in the shower. Just make sure he doesn’t drown himself, will you?’

They nodded their acquiescence, and Rose went off to find another bathroom. She needed to get all this crap off her if she was going to be presentable tomorrow, which Effie insisted would be a “big, big day!”

* * *

 

Rose awoke the following morning on top of silk sheets, and stretched luxuriously. Her body was clean, any lingering amounts of vomit scrubbed firmly away. She thought that she’d even managed to make a dent in the layer of coal dust that clung to the bodies of everyone in District Twelve, and her stylists would get rid of the rest. She’d had a good nights’ sleep last night, mind untroubled with thoughts of where she would get her next meal from and was instead able to focus wholly on her goal. The girl from District One had also paid a visit to her dreams, and that hadn’t been entirely unpleasant.

All of these were comfortable sensations that she could see herself getting used to.

Still, there was work to do. She walked over to the closet, in which the Capitol staff had readied several outfits. She took her time choosing – the audience wouldn’t see her in this for long, nowhere near as long as her reaping outfit or her costume for the parade – but she’d still take her first steps out into the Capitol in whatever she chose now, and the Capitol placed so high a value on physical appearance that she had to make a good impression.

Finally satisfied with her selection, she elected to go for breakfast. The food last night had been exquisite, and though this morning was the first in a long time that she hadn’t woke up hungry, she was still looking forward to what the morning meal would bring. Perhaps most importantly, Haymitch would be there, and hopefully sober enough to answer her questions – at least if Effie’s words had been correct.

Sure enough, when she entered the dining car, he was already present and in the process of buttering a piece of toast. He looked somewhat the worse for wear, though considering the state he was in last night, that was hardly surprising. Effie sat beside him, and the two were murmuring together. She seemed displeased about something, and spoke to him sharply.

Rose slid into the chair across from them, and cleared her throat, alerting them both to her presence. They ceased their argument, and looked up at her – Effie with a polite smile on her face, Haymitch with a calculating scowl.

‘Morning, dear! I trust you had an excellent night’s sleep. Now, Haymitch will be here this morning to answer any questions that you may have – I made sure of it.’ She looked at him threateningly – for a woman unlikely to have been in a physical fight in her life, it was remarkably effective.

This was what Rose had been waiting for. She took a breath, and several questions tumbled out at once. ‘So, what are your recommendations for the arena? Should I go to the Cornucopia? What is the best way to find shelter? Wha-’

Haymitch groaned. ‘Take it easy, let me have a drink first.’ Effie hummed disapprovingly as Haymitch reached for a bottle that held some kind of amber liquid. Rose was not impressed at the interruption, and the blasé way that he treated her questions. She felt her frustrations from the night before resurface, and saw red. She seized a knife, and just as he was about to pour, brought it down in an arc and buried it in the table – right between the fingers of the hand that had been resting idly.

Effie shrieked, ‘THAT IS MAHOGANY!’, but Haymitch’s eyes narrowed critically. ‘Well,’ he drawled, ‘Seems I’ve got a fighter this year. I had a feeling about you at the reaping, and now I know. Can you do anything else with that knife, other than annoy me with it?’

Rose smiled arrogantly – oh, he had no idea. She picked up another knife – sharper, this time – and aimed carefully. There was a crack in the wall near the door, at the point where the two surfaces gave way to each other. She raised the knife and – bam! Got it in one.

‘What the hell!’ exclaimed Daniel – Rose had forgotten about him again – who walked through the doorway just as the knife buried itself in the wall. She smiled, and noticed that Haymitch had to bite back one too. Her throw had impressed him - she could see his mind whirring behind his closely guarded exterior, working out strategies and how he could best employ the skills she had demonstrated. This was the first time that Rose had caught a glimpse of person who had won the Games by outsmarting half the field and the gamemakers themselves, and she could grudgingly feel some admiration growing.

‘Impressive. It seems like we should get this show on the road – any questions?’ Rose opened her mouth eagerly, and Haymitch interjected, ‘One at a time, sweetheart.’  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Luisa heads to the Capitol, she's given time to reflect on what has happened to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Thanks to everyone who's commented and otherwise encouraged me in this :)   
> -I managed to get this out surprisingly quickly considering it's exam season, ha. Shows my priorities ;)  
> -Also, I plan on finally updating you've got time next, so it might be a little longer till this gets updated. Hopefully not too long, though.

Luisa had, more or less, managed to maintain a brave face for the sake of her friends and family. It had been difficult, seeing the warring mix of denial and devastation in their expressions, but in a way their distress had given her something else to focus on. If she was trying to comfort or reassure them, then she couldn’t get caught up in thinking about her own situation. Now, as she was being ushered towards the train that would soon depart for the Capitol, the façade was becoming difficult to maintain.

But she knew the consequences of appearing weak – if she displayed any of her true emotions now, it would damn her in the arena. She’d promised her family that she’d at least try to win, and that wouldn’t happen if she seemed to falter now. So, she forced herself to keep smiling, keep waving, keep pretending to be the happy little tribute, ecstatic to be leaving for the big, bright city. The crowd that had followed the tributes to the station ate it up, some were even chanting her name – _it seems they have short memories_ , she thought bitterly, _it wasn’t so long ago that I was their favourite target._

Luisa and her entourage finally reached the train, and the doors whooshed closed behind them. She felt her mask slide away, and slumped against the nearest wall. She put her head in her hands, and focused on her breathing. _Inala, Exhala_. Rogelio had spent a lot of time in the Marbella, and while she hadn’t seen him as often as Jane, he’d still been a frequent presence in her life. Whenever any of them had been upset as children, he’d repeat those words and maintain a soothing presence – a trait at odds with his usual somewhat self-centred vivacity – but more often than not, it had worked.

It wasn’t working now, though. She repeated them over and over, hoping that they’d bring their usual relief but instead her anxiety just kept climbing and climbing. Her mind kept flashing to the days ahead, imagining the worst and she’d promised her family that she’d try to come home to them but she didn’t know if that was possible. She’d been fighting against typical career kids her whole life, and the ones that volunteered for the Games were always the strongest of them all. In the Games they had no reason to hold back, there was no teacher to intervene, no rulebook to follow. She knew she’d never ally with them as was expected of a District One tribute – she’d never be able to roam the arena, picking off weaker opponents as was their typical _modus operandi_ – and spurning them would only make her a bigger target. Maybe she’d be able to take on one of them in single combat – she really had been coming along in training, albeit reluctantly – but the whole pack? She was screwed.

Tears began to fall from her eyes, and she was unable to hold them back. It didn’t matter so much in here – the train was probably bugged, but they wouldn’t be able to air any of that footage. A mocking, masculine voice from somewhere beside her sneered, ‘Crying already, Alver? I shouldn’t blame you, really. Best to get it out of your system – you won’t get much of a chance after, now will you? Because we both know that I’ll be the one making the trip back home.’

It was as if some sort of switch was tripped in Luisa’s mind – all the worry she was carrying, the pain she was feeling – it all changed into a burning hot rage. Suddenly, she wasn’t on the train anymore, there were no rules against fighting other tributes until the arena. She was thirteen years old again, standing in that alley staring down her tormentor. Once again, it was time to either give into his bullying or to fight back – and once again, she chose to fight.  

She launched herself at Marvel – he was surprised, he hadn’t expected her to retaliate. The smirk was quickly wiped from his face – perhaps he too was recalling their altercation in the alley, and that hadn’t exactly ended well for him. Before she could do any damage or, god forbid, leave a mark, she felt herself being pulled away from the blonde by a pair of strong, male arms.

‘Easy, easy. You know that you should not be fighting. Can’t have either of you marring your faces before the show, now, can we?’ Said Rogelio. He indicated his head towards Marvel, still clutching a struggling Luisa, ‘It is best to see to that before it leaves a mark. Make sure to moisturise, it will do wonders for your skin.’

After Marvel left, Rogelio dropped his convivial act and released Luisa. His expression darkened, and he looked at her sympathetically with emotion clouding his eyes. ‘I am sorry, Luisa. I can’t be seen to show favouritism in front of the other tribute. But come, I have many important things to tell you, let us go somewhere more private.’

Rogelio offered her a hand, and she took it gratefully. He pulled her out of the corridor towards a more sheltered room. Marvel would be less likely to come looking for them here, so Luisa followed along numbly. When they were alone together, he pulled her in for a hug. It was a familiar embrace, one Luisa allowed herself to melt into. She didn’t have to pretend to be strong in front of Rogelio – he knew better than anyone what she would be facing. He’d had an easier Games than most – he’d never worked well with others, so had elected not to join the usual career alliance – good thing too, because they’d turned on each other quicker than normal that year. His good looks and natural charisma with the Capitol audience meant that he hadn’t been short of sponsors, so he’d been able to get a hold of resources fairly easy. Still, no-one emerged from the Games unscathed and since then, he’d seen countless tributes die every year. District One had several Victors who could have mentored, but Rogelio was so popular with Capitol audiences that he was “requested” back every year.

Rogelio opened his mouth to speak to Luisa, but the words got caught in his throat. This was a new sensation – he always had some witty remark or a charming comment prepared for all situations, but now he was coming up blank.

Eventually, he settled on the only phrase that was currently reverberating around his mind. ‘Thank you. Thank you for doing what you did for my daughter, Luisa.’ Buoyed by this, he continued on. ‘I am sorry that you are here, I know how much you detest the Games, but I truly believe that you can succeed. I believe in you almost as much as I believe in myself! And I promise you that I will do everything in my power to help you in the arena – I will work every connection, go to every sponsor meeting, make sure all of my fans know how amazing you are. I promise you this, Luisa, and Rogelio de la Vega never breaks a promise!’

Luisa let out a shaky laugh. Dark thoughts were still swirling around her mind, but Rogelio’s presence was succeeding is lessening their intensity. He placed a hand on her back, and moved it in soothing circles. It was doing more for her than any memory of past comforts could, and she was glad that he would be there for her. She knew that if anyone else had been assigned as her mentor, she would have been inconsolable right now. Gradually, her breathing returned to some semblance of normal and her eyes began to dry.

Rogelio noticed that she seemed less distressed, and suggested gently that they return to the dining car. ‘It’s probably best that we go and get some food. You’ll want to officially met Esteban.’ Disdain crept into his voice with the last sentence. It succeeded in earning a slight smile from Luisa – the rivalry between the two men was well-known, and back in the Marbella she’d spent her fair share of time mediating whenever Esteban dropped by.

‘Let me first fix your make-up. You wouldn’t want either of those _pendejos_ to see that you’ve been crying.’ Luisa nodded her assent, and gratefully allowed Rogelio to fix the make-up that had ran during her crying jag. She didn’t want to give Marvel any more ammunition to use against her.

After this had been achieved, Luisa and Rogelio walked towards the dining car. Luisa did a double-take when she stepped into it – up until this point, she’d been too overwhelmed to take in much of her surroundings – but it would have been almost impossible to do that here. The room was more elaborate than even the most exclusive suites in the Marbella – which Luisa had only been allowed to see once or twice in her life, they were usually reserved for only the most distinguished Capitol visitors. No wonder Capitolites considered even privileged districts like One to be rustic, if this was the kind of accommodation that they were used to.

Esteban and Marvel were already seated, waiting for them to arrive. They seemed to be chatting amiably – Marvel was boasting about his skill with any number of weapons, with Esteban listening attentively, seeming impressed. Rogelio sat next to the escort, and the two of them exchanged glares – even after years of working together, the two had never reached any kind of harmony. In fact, their rivalry seemed to worsen each passing year. She wasn’t sure what had started it – she didn’t think anyone knew – but it was by now the stuff of Hunger Games legend. She hoped that they’d be able to get their acts together well enough to help her in the Games. She trusted Rogelio, but Esteban, not so much.

Marvel shot her a dirty look as she slid into the seat next to him. She could see the beginnings of a bruise emerging near his eye, but it wasn’t anything that make-up wouldn’t be able to cover. That was good – she’d get into a lot of trouble if the gamemakers found out they’d been fighting. Marvel could tell them, of course, but she doubted he would – wouldn’t want them to know a _girl_ had gotten the jump on him, she thought sourly.

They promptly began their etiquette lessons – Rogelio and Esteban kept trying to one-up each other by giving the most “helpful” instruction – but this was an area that Luisa really didn’t need any help with. She’d sat through countless dinners with Capitol dignitaries when they visited the hotel, and had been expected to display the very best table manners. They’d been excruciatingly boring, especially for a child, but she was rather glad of them now. She noticed with some satisfaction that Marvel was struggling, and had to suppress a smirk. She was able to sit back and enjoy the exquisite food without worrying about passing their test. It really was divine – she was used to a better diet than most, and very rarely went hungry by necessity, but it could still not compare to this.

As she continued to excel in this smallest of matters, Marvel grew more and more surly. The glares that he threw her way were increasingly poisonous – it seems he didn’t like losing, no matter how relatively trivial the competition. She continued to feel some satisfaction at this – she was likely going to die within the next few weeks, taking solace from whatever little amusement she could find seemed a sensible approach. It stopped her from descending too far into hysteria, which could only be a good thing if she was to keep it together in front of the cameras.

It was tradition for both Rogelio and Esteban to watch the reapings with their tributes. More often than not, they’d like the look of the tributes from Districts Two and Four and stay up late drafting alliance contracts to be turned in almost immediately after the train left the Capitol. Marvel seemed to be anticipating this, and some of his earlier vitriol was cast aside after Esteban mentioned what was coming next.

Luisa was more apathetic – she had absolutely no intention of allying with the careers, so that part of the spectacle would be useless to her, and besides – they would probably look the same as they always did: big, brawny, able-to-kill-her-in-ten-seconds-flat. She’d strongly consider an alliance with someone from another district – being alone in the arena was often deadly, a lone tribute made for dull viewing so the gamemakers frequently arranged an “accident” to spice things up. If, by some miracle, the tribute survived that “accident”, the Games could go on for weeks, and being alone for that amount of time in a constant state of paranoia has been known to drive tributes insane. Yes, Luisa decided, she definitely wanted an ally, but it would pretty pointless to pick one out from the reaping – it wouldn’t give any true indication of their personality or skills.

Still, the quartet made their way to the room designated for viewing the reapings. Marvel shoved Luisa as he got up. She glared at him, but made no other retaliation. He wasn’t worth it. It was a comfortably laid out room, and she allowed herself to sink onto the expensive-looking silk couch as Rogelio and Esteban bickered between themselves about the best way to set up the TV. After a time that would have likely been considerably shorter without all the arguing, it flickered to life and the two men sat on opposite sides of the room from each other – Rogelio next to Luisa, and Esteban near Marvel.

The first reaping shown was, naturally, their own. She recognised many of the people being interviewed by the Capitol fashion crew, all of them preening and simpering for the cameras, begging for their attention. Luisa would do anything to be able to get off this train, to fade back into relative anonymity in District One.

That wasn’t possible anymore.

When she heard Jane’s name being called for the second time, her reaction was remarkably similar to the first. Her blood once again turned to ice, and she found it difficult to breath. From across the room, Marvel smirked. ‘Good thing you volunteered for that one, Alver. She would have done even worse than you. I can see her now, smeared on the ground before the bloodbath at the cornucopia is even over… the same thing’ll probably happen to you, but maybe you’ll last 10 minutes instead of five.’

Without even fully realising what she was doing, Luisa was moving up and out of her seat, a murderous expression on her face. She was stopped from doing any damage by Rogelio, who once again pulled her back. ‘Easy,’ he whispered, ‘they won’t allow a second fight to slide.’

She sat back down angrily, kicking a nearby table as she did so. Marvel continued smirking, glad that he’d gotten under her skin. She did notice out of the corner of her eye that Esteban was frowning at him – maybe he wouldn’t stay his golden boy for long. She took some grim satisfaction from that, and from the fact that he hadn’t seemed to notice yet.

Luisa turned away from him completely, and focused wholly on the reapings. That hadn’t been her plan, but it was better than spending even the smallest amount of time glaring at his stupid face.

District Two was next, and Luisa wasn’t at all surprised by the results. The boy was exactly the kind that she’d expected, and looked somewhat like Marvel – big, brawny, probably not all that much in his head. The girl was small, but she looked fierce. No one else dared contest her when she coolly stepped forward to volunteer, which spoke volumes about the reputation she must have in her District.

District Three was fairly typical – short, skinny kids, probably very clever. Four came as a surprise  - the girl was lethal looking, but the boy couldn’t have been any older than fourteen. No one volunteered for him, which was, in itself, shocking – perhaps it was another situation similar to Jane’s, where it was obviously politically motivated. A red-headed girl from District Five was chosen. Perhaps she’d be a good ally – Luisa had always been partial to red-heads, and she seemed intelligent. She could talk to her in training and then mention something to Rogelio if it went well. Few of the middling districts produced tributes who looked remarkable – there were no volunteers, and all seemed underfed. They didn’t look like they’d pose a threat to her, but she reasoned that they might surprise her later on. Throughout the reapings, Marvel continued to make crass comments, bragging about how easy it would be to crush most of the children selected. Luisa bit hard into her lip, but ignored him.

District Eleven was difficult to watch. The female tribute couldn’t have been more than twelve years old – she was tiny, smaller even than Jane, and had pretty, dark hair. She exhaled nervously when her name was chosen, but quickly recovered and squared her shoulders as she walked up to the stage with a quiet dignity. There wasn’t the faintest trace of tears in her eyes, even as she walked past her almost hysterical family. That also reminded Luisa of Jane – though the younger girl had cried at the reaping, it hadn’t been until Luisa had volunteered to take her place. She’d managed to keep her face carefully blank until that point.

Both were too young to be forced into something like this.

The male tribute was also something of a surprise – kids from District Eleven were usually small and underfed, but this guy was huge. He was easily bigger than Marvel, likely the boy from District Two as well. He was well over six feet tall, and though Luisa doubted that he’d ever had any kind of training or even a proper diet, he still looked like he’d be able to do a lot of damage if given the chance. Even Marvel seemed impressed, and refrained from making a disparaging comment.

District Twelve was up next. They hadn’t had a Victor in years, and most districts, as well as Capitol gamblers, had written them off entirely. Haymitch Abernathy was the only one still surviving – there’d been one more, but she’d died years ago – and he was something of a laughing stock. She’d met him a couple of times – he didn’t come to the Marbella as often as some did, but he was known to make the occasional appearance. She always looked forward to his visits with a mixture of trepidation and excitement – he was a heavy drinker, and they often had a lot of fun together, but a lot of the time some of his drinking habits hit a little too close to home. She could see him on the stage, looking the worse for wear.

After a brief introduction by the mayor, Effie Trinket walked onto the stage. Luisa had also seen her in the Marbella several times – they’d never interacted much, she preferred interacting with the Victors (less of a culture shock), but she seemed sweet. Somewhat clueless, but sweet. She seemed more dedicated than most escorts, she actually made sure that her tributes were in the places they were supposed to be on time, and she did her best to scrounge up what little sponsorship she could for such an unpopular district.

Someone called Madge Undersee was reaped. Luisa gathered from the shock that rippled through the crowd that this was something unexpected. She couldn’t figure out why, until she saw the face of the mayor on stage – he had the same expression on his face that Rogelio had had when Jane was reaped.

The Mayor’s daughter in the Games – that was something new.

There wasn’t much time for the crowd to absorb this revelation, as another girl stepped out of the crowd as soon as Madge had reached the stage and said, in a clear, authoritative voice, ‘I volunteer as tribute.’

The shock in the District deepened – it had likely been decades since they’d had a volunteer, Luisa certainly couldn’t remember there being one in her lifetime. The girl made her way up to the stage, and Luisa was left momentarily breathless.

She was beautiful.

Her hair was red, and flowed loosely down her back. Luisa could have spent hours gazing at it – it had always been a colour that she was partial to despite its rarity, and it looked even better on this woman than it did on most. She wore an emerald green cocktail dress, which allowed Luisa to examine her figure appreciatively. Like most girls from District Twelve, she was thin – she likely hadn’t had access to proper meals – but Luisa could see muscles on her arms, as well as the beginnings of curves beneath her dress. She walked with a confidence bordering on arrogance, and Luisa was here for it. When she reached the stage, she smiled and waved for the cameras, and Luisa almost died on the spot.

It wasn’t _just_ a physical attraction. Once the initial shock of seeing someone like her had dissipated somewhat, she forced herself to reflect on what had happened – the redhead had volunteered for someone. District Twelve _didn’t get_ volunteers, she must have cared for the girl a lot. Maybe this was something they’d have in common. She allowed herself to imagine forming an alliance with the other woman – her confidence must be for a reason, so she’d likely be useful in the arena (but honestly, that was a pretty secondary thought for Luisa right now) – and she’d definitely stop her from feeling too lonely in the arena. She even thought that she might not hate _every_ single minute, if she had an ally like her.

That was probably wishful thinking, but still.

The reapings wrapped up shortly after that, and, not feeling in the mood to watch Caesar Flickerman’s annual commentary on them, she elected to head to bed. She was exhausted – it was hard to believe that it had been just over twelve hours since she’d woken up curled next to Jane – it felt like a lifetime ago. She changed into the nightwear that had been laid out on the bed for her, and slid in between the soft, silk sheets. She closed her eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come to her.

She’d stepped onto this train firmly believing that in a few days – weeks if she was lucky – she would die. She’d made a promise to her family, but hadn’t seriously thought that she’d physically be able to keep it. She still didn’t, really, but Rogelio’s words had offered her some measure of comfort. She had a better chance than most, and she knew that Rogelio would try his damnedest to help her out. And she could try to forge an alliance with someone – that was bound to help her in the arena.

Thoughts of an alliance brought her mind back to the enchanting girl from District Twelve. This seemed like a safer topic to focus on, and she allowed her mind to do just that. Eventually, she was able to fall into a deep, not entirely unpleasant sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luisa and Rose are prepped for the tribute parade, meeting the stylists in the process. Both make a splash with the Capitol audiences, but a shock announcement sends everything up in the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Sorry for the longer than usual wait, but I've been trying to juggle my stories better and stop constantly updating one story while neglecting the other. Hopefully it work out!  
> -As always, comments are hugely appreciated :) Please consider leaving one if you enjoyed, or have anything to say.  
> -Also, there's a small piece here in Haymitch's POV, and I'd love it if you told me what you thought of that since Haymitch is one of my favourite characters and I want to get him right.

Rose scowled as she sat in a chair outside of Cinna’s office. She was not in the best of moods – her prep session with the Capitol-appointed beauticians had not gone as she had imagined. She’d known that she looked attractive in every public event thus far and had exerted considerable effort to appear so. The crowd in the station as she disembarked the train had certainly appreciated it – they’d screamed her name, and she had smiled and waved prettily at them in return. The memory of the attention still sent a thrill through her body – she’d spent so many years being dismissed and neglected at home and she would make sure that wouldn’t happen here. They **would** remember her name. She was going to be their Victor, after all.

She’d expected to be touched up when she reached prep, then quickly passed to her stylist for the real work to begin. Instead, they’d taken one look at her and tittered at how much work had still to be done. It was downright insulting, and they’d spent the next several hours fussing over every minor detail of her appearance until she had been deemed merely “suitable.”

Her glower was still in place when the door in front of her swung open, revealing a dark-skinned man dressed in a relatively plain black suit. He was the most normal looking man she’d seen in the Capitol, and wouldn’t look entirely out of place in one of the districts. The only thing mildly unusual about his appearance was the gold eyeliner encircling his eyes, and compared to some of the things she’d seen, it was downright tasteful.

He extended a hand to her, and she took it. ‘You must be Rose. I’m Cinna, a pleasure to meet you. I saw you at the reaping – it was a brave thing that you did, for that girl. She didn’t look like she was related to you, so I’m sure you had your own reasons, but it was brave. She clearly didn’t want to enter, and you stopped her from having to. I respect that.’

Rose nodded and thanked him. He seemed intelligent, and had been able to guess that she’d volunteered for reasons that were her own. That intelligence would come in useful to her, given that he was on her side. And she was willing to bet that most of the Capitol audience wouldn’t be so discerning – they’d believe her story about volunteering to save a dear friend, if that was the one she chose to feed them.

Cinna continued on. ‘Now, it’s my job to make sure that you make the best impression possible. This is my first year as a stylist for your district, and it’s my understanding that your tributes are normally placed in some kind of coal miners get-up, or worse. I’m not going to do that. I’m going to do something that will leave a lasting image in the mind of the audience, but I need you to trust me. Do we have a deal?’

Rose was intrigued – it was true, in most years the costumes worn by District Twelve tributes were awful. They were usually some kind of dreadfully unflattering – and inaccurate – uniform, that were entirely forgettable when compared to the showier costumes of the Career districts, or even those of some of the middling ones. One year, in a bid to do something different, the tributes had been sent out naked with just black glitter made to look like coal dust covering them. It had certainly been memorable, but not for the right reasons. This man – Cinna – he sounded promising. She needed very little time to decide her answer.

‘I think we just might.’

* * *

 

Luisa sat outside her stylist’s studio feeling oddly content, considering her current situation. Rogelio had helped her get a grip back on the train, but it didn’t make everything magically better. There were moments - largely when she had brief windows of time to herself – that all those feelings would come rushing back and she’d be unable to contain them.

It had almost happened when she first stepped foot on Capitol soil. The train station had been thronged with people – more than could easily be counted. They were all in the classically eccentric Capitol clothing – which Luisa wasn’t entirely unused to, given her father’s profession - but seeing such a multitude was still an adjustment. Some were screaming both her and Marvel’s name with an intensity and fervour that was disconcerting. Luisa’s body wanted to shy away from the attention, but she forced her smile to remain in place and her hand to wave at the enthusiastic crowd. Beside her, Marvel was grinning and flexing his muscles, seemingly with little care for the odd way that the horde was staring at him.

When the door to the Training Centre closed behind her, Luisa was having a hard time controlling her breathing – but found that there was no time to fall apart as she was being quickly introduced to the three people who would make up the bulk of her prep team. Helena, Hermia and Titania each smiled kindly at her before introducing themselves and suggesting that they move on to their studio. Luisa found herself agreeing – they seemed friendly enough, and anything would be better than enduring Marvel’s smirking for much longer.

The three women seemed to sense her nervousness, and maintained a light, congenial buzz of chatter as they did their respective jobs. They made sure to include her in their conversation, asking her polite questions about herself and filling her in on details about their own lives, letting her in on any inside jokes. Luisa had always been a talker, and speaking to others frequently helped her sort through her issues.

Their administrations were also pleasant – soothing hands running through her hair as they washed it served to relieve at least some of her anxieties – for the moment, at least – and they were as gentle as could be when applying the hot hair-removing wax to pretty much every area of her body. They would distract her with a particularly interesting tidbit of gossip as they pulled away the strips, which did lessen the sting somewhat.

All-in-all, she left their studio to meet her stylist more relaxed than she’d been since she’d arrived in the Capitol, potentially since she volunteered in Jane’s place. She knew it likely wouldn’t last, but she wanted to stick by the philosophy that she’d developed on the train of taking all the good moments that she could.

The door in front of her opened, and Luisa had to stifle a surprised gasp. The woman that stepped out was the strangest she’d seen in the Capitol thus far. She wasn’t a judgemental person when it came to other people’s appearances – whatever worked for them, really – but she had to admit that this was a bit much. The other woman’s skin had been dyed an unnatural orange colour, and was decorated with interconnected black tattoos, creating the overall appearance of a tiger. Luisa cast her eyes down to her hands, and saw that her fingernails had been sharpened to resemble claws. The whole effect was disconcerting, and more than a little terrifying.

‘I am Tigris. I am sure you have already heard of me.’ Luisa hadn’t, but whatever. She stepped forward, and walked around Luisa in a circle, critically examining every inch of her body. ‘Well,’ she purred, ‘You’re pretty enough. I’ll be able to make something of you, I’m sure. Though it’s up to you to decide how you wear my creations, how you present yourself. You haven’t impressed me so far – smiling and waving, like some kind of common District brat. You are a Career – there is a long line of Victors standing proudly behind you, many of them **I** made memorable. A real Career makes a show of strength, like your District partner. Now he is a true Career.’

An odd shine entered her eyes then, and Luisa felt vaguely unwell. The words themselves didn’t particularly bother her – she already knew she wasn’t the type of tribute that Marvel was, despite her upbringing – it was more the fervour with which she said them. She saw that Games-related mania all the time in District One – in visitors to the hotel, in trainers at the Training Centre, in the eyes of particularly obsessed wannabe tributes, and it never failed to unsettle her. She said nothing in response to the other woman’s rant – there was plenty she would _like_ to say, but she needed to play the Games smart if she had any hope of getting home to her family, and insulting her stylist wasn’t exactly a _smart_ thing to do.

The other woman’s words about her own role in creating Victor’s may have seemed egocentric, but Luisa acknowledged the importance of appearing well put-together at the tribute parade and the later interview. A lot of the tributes from other districts often had disastrous costumes at the parade.  Luisa remembered with a sympathetic wince that once, several years ago, a pair of tributes from one of the outlying districts – District 12, she thought it might have been – had been forced onto the stage entirely naked, save for some artfully applied glitter. Instead of making the splash that the stylists had obviously intended, they’d been a laughing stock. Her own District was more fortunate in that regard – District One was in charge of producing luxury items, which meant that the tributes could normally get away with wearing pretty outfits embellished with jewels. She hoped that that was what her stylist had in store for her, at any rate.

Tigris finished her rant and sniffed. ‘Come. It is high time that we got started.’

Luisa didn’t argue, and followed the woman into her studio, somewhat apprehensively. She hoped whatever Tigris had in store for her involved more than just artfully applied glitter.

* * *

 

Rose was last to arrive in the area designated to house tributes before the parade began. She was wearing a black dress – it was figure hugging, and left ample room for her cleavage to be displayed, but ultimately plain, especially by Capitol standards. Her hair was left down, and tumbled in red waves down her back. She knew that she looked incredible and smirked at the envious reactions of the other tributes. She’d be content to remain as she was now, but Cinna had told her that he had another little surprise to add to her costume when the other tributes had been carted out. That made her suspicious – he’d had an amused glint in his eye as he’d said it.

To entertain herself while waiting for the show to start, she examined the other tributes. All were in costumes fairly typical of their District, and none were particularly surprising. Both Districts Seven and Eleven were dressed to resemble trees, which were almost comically awful. The little girl managed to pull it off well – it emphasised her youth, and might make her look sympathetic to sponsors – but Thresh looked awful. He was older and strong-looking, yet his costume infantilised him. It wouldn’t do him any favours on the sponsor front.

Rose did a double-take when her eyes reached the end of the line of tributes and saw the tributes from District One. They always had an unfair advantage in the costume department as “luxury” can be interpreted to mean essentially anything pretty. It was something that would normally cause her to be jealous – and she did feel a minor stab – but by far her most prominent feeling at that moment was one of intense attraction. The girl she’d noticed at the reaping – Luisa, she thought her name was – looked absolutely _stunning_.

She wore a silver dress, embellished by dozens of shining, sparkling jewels – it probably cost more to make than District Twelve mined in a month – and contrasted beautifully with her darker skin. Like Rose, her hair was also left down, and flowed elegantly along her back.

The other woman seemed to notice her staring, and turned around to look at her. Rose noted with no small amount of satisfaction that Luisa also seemed transfixed. Their staring competition continued for several long moments, neither quite willing to break eye contact – but was interrupted by a loud claxon that heralded the start of the parade.

Luisa and her idiotic-looking district counterpart were carted off first – Rose could hear the roaring of the crowd as they were brought out – evidently they were just as impressed with her as she had been. Others were gradually given their cues to enter the stage – some received applause to a similar level to Luisa, but none were quite so enthusiastic. A few of the districts in the more ridiculous costumes earned only perfunctory praise.

When only a few tributes remained in the assembly area, Cinna approached Rose and Daniel with a wicked grin on his face and strange apparatus clutched in his hands.

‘Just so we’re clear, you guys agreed to trust me, right?’ He asked, excited smirk not leaving his face.

Rose nodded, though her eyes narrowed as she took in the contraption he was carrying. ‘Yeah, but I’m starting to think that maybe I’m going to regret that.’ She pointed to his hands. ‘What’s that thing for?’

Cinna shrugged, feigning nonchalance. ‘Oh, you know, just for lighting you both on fire. No big.’ His smile remained in place.

‘You’re kidding, right?’

‘Afraid not. It’s going to make one hell of an impression. Turn around, now, won’t you?’

Rose stared at him in horror for a few moments, before reluctantly complying. She knew both from the smile on his face and rationality that it wouldn’t be real fire – it’d be over the top even by Capitol standards to kill a tribute by flaming dress before the Games even began – but still, she figured it was only healthy to have some hesitations.

Perhaps sensing their hesitation, Cinna’s demeanour became more serious. ‘You guys won’t feel a thing, I promise. And they’ll love it – tearing down the stage while in flames is certainly one way to make an impression – but make sure you don’t let the costume do all the work for you. Smile, wave at them, let them know there’s a personality underneath the flames. You’ll be all anyone will be able to talk about.’

She had to agree with him there – if she’d been watching from home, she’d certainly have been impressed by such a display. She was suddenly exceptionally glad that Cinna had chosen District Twelve the year she had decided to volunteer – it felt like fate was reinforcing her choices.

It made her feel powerful.

This feeling was only magnified when the flames were added to her costume. True to Cinna’s word, she couldn’t feel a thing, though she could see the reflection of the flames in the shadow she was casting.

Almost as soon as it was finished being applied, the signal was given for them to head out onto stage. The well-trained horses were propelled into action, and the chariot began moving. It was harder than she thought it would be to stay upright – it was the first time that she had ever worn high heels, and they weren’t doing anything for her balance.

All of that was forced from mind when the crowd caught their first glimpse of her. They seemed to be shocked into silence at first, but after a brief moment the applause began. If they had been enthusiastic to see her at the train station, it was nothing compared to this. The flames were something entirely new, something never before seen in Games history, and the crowd loved it. Loved _her_. They screamed her name – and when Rose followed Cinna’s advice and returned their affection, the noise only multiplied. Flowers were thrown at her feet, and Rose noticed with some appreciation for the pun that many were actual roses.

Daniel also received some appreciation from the crowd – though it was muted in comparison to Rose. It wasn’t unusual for the female tribute to receive more attention at the parade – their costumes were often more intricate, and took more preparation. He also appeared less willing to interact with the crowd than she, and was barely managing the most sombre of waves.

She was finding it particularly hard to care at this moment in time, however. They had far outstaged any of the other tributes, even District One – though some did still seem to be chanting Luisa’s name. Rose and Daniel’s portraits were displayed on the screens made to look like banners around the stage, and Rose gazed in admiration at her own – flames decorated the background, accentuating the natural brightness of her fiery hair. She looked as powerful as she felt.

All chariots stopped at the end of the stage, forming a horizontal line beneath the raised balcony where President Snow presided. He stood, and opened his mouth to speak. Whenever this normally happened, the crowd would be immediately silenced. This time, however, they continued chanting her name.

She had upstaged the President.

This should have concerned her – she saw the dangerous glint in his eye as he made a congenial show of waiting for the crowd to finish their merriments, like the caring grandfather he pretended to be. She knew the power that he wielded, that he was a dangerous man to cross – but in that moment, she didn’t care.

Because for the briefest minute, the power in the room lay not with the President of Panem, but with her.

And she positively _revelled_ in it.

The President caught her eye, and the two maintained contact. Rose allowed a slow smile to spread across her face. The crowd took it as further proof of her loveliness, and cheered all the louder for it. Snow saw it for what it was, and looked not at all pleased.

However, Rose’s moment in the spotlight was just that – a moment. It was not meant to last, and order was swiftly restored, power transferred firmly back into Snow’s hands. He eventually opened his mouth to speak again, and this time the crowd quietened down to listen.

‘Welcome, tributes, welcome’ he intoned, ‘to the Seventy-Fourth Annual Hunger Games!’

A stream of raucous applause greeted this statement, but it did not have the adverse effect on the President that the former had – this was controlled, this was planned, this was a sign that the crowd was once again in his pocket.

‘Tributes,’ he continued, ‘we welcome you. We salute your courage and your sacrifice. And we wish you a happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour.’

The cameras panned briefly to each tribute then, showing their reactions to this statement. Rose remembered to school her features into a mask of quiet attention.

‘As you are all aware, next year marks the 75th anniversary of the very first Hunger Games and will be celebrated with a Quarter Quell. Due to the magnitude of this event, we at the Capitol believe it appropriate to begin celebrations early. For this reason, the rules of our beloved Games will become altered slightly – just for this year, for these very special Games, it will be permitted for two Victors to be crowned.’

A shocked silence rang out across the crowd as they waited with baited breath for the President to continue his announcement – this had never happened before; it was entirely unprecedented.

Snow smiled, appearing every inch the kindly grandfather, ‘I can see that my words have caused some confusion. Allow me to explain. Our dual Victors will not be any two tributes who happen to survive at the end of the Games, no, such a thing would undermine their very purpose. This year, it is mandatory for every tribute to form an alliance with another tribute, and this tribute must be from a different District to themselves. These alliances shall be pre-arranged before the tributes enter the arena. Training will be longer to facilitate the formation of alliances – twelve days in total, to symbolise each District. On the sixth day, individual evaluations will be held and scores awarded that evening as normal. On the eleventh day, a joint evaluation will be held for each pair of allies, assessing the strengths and weaknesses of each bond. As with the individual evaluation, results will be announced that very night. Individual and team evaluations will form the overall score of a tribute. To prevent citizens of our illustrious Capitol from growing bored during this period, camera crew will be dispatched to each District to extensively interview the friends and family of each tribute. The families of District One tributes will be interviewed on day one, and so forth. If the final two remaining tributes are allies, then both will be permitted to leave the arena as Victors, and will share all appropriate winnings.’

The applause that greeted this announcement was unlike any that came before it. The crowd were positively mad with glee, and chanted the name of their President with fervour seldom witnessed. After some time, this was interspersed with shouts for their favourite tributes, though the President’s name remained the most common word on people’s mouths.

Though she was trying not to show it, Rose was furious. Snow’s announcement had extinguished any excitement her costume might have brought on – _she_ was meant to be all anyone could talk about, and now all attention would be focused on the rule change. Rose had had a very clear plan for the Games – make as big a splash as she could in the Capitol, demonstrate her skill with a bow so they’d be sure to include one in the Cornucopia, get her hands on said bow and then simply wait for the others to come to her. None of that included a useless ally that she’d need to look after if she wanted to appear interesting for the cameras. She didn’t play well with others as a general rule, and they didn’t play well with her. Her anger only rose as she took in the jubilation on the crowd’s faces – they were excited about this change. They _wanted_ to see cross-District alliances at work, they _wanted_ a duel Victor. She would need to play along if she wanted to hold onto whatever interest she had managed to accrue, and it galled her.

On the opposite end of the hall, Luisa’s reaction was different - on one hand, this all seemed too good to be true. She knew from the mess with Jane and Rogelio that the Capitol didn’t allow the Districts to have nice things – and allowing two of their children to return home seemed  uncharacteristically benevolent. They had to be planning something. But she allowed herself to imagine a world where they kept their promises – as unlikely as that may be. This could be really, _really_ good for her. She knew that an alliance with the Career pack would be suicide – she wouldn’t fit in there, never has, and they’d recognise her as the weak link immediately. She’d be forced to survive without the supplies of the Cornucopia, and would thus need someone equipped to help her with that, someone she’d be able to help in return. The longer training period would give her time to really get to know someone, to make a smart choice. Maybe she’d be able to go home – maybe they’d _both_ be able to go home.

Above them all, Haymitch sat with the other Victors. His reaction was different again – this was a trap, and he knew it. For close to seventy-five years, the Capitol had attempted to cut off the lines of communication between Districts, to make sure each was isolated, alone. It worked for them – the constant suspicion, the mistrust – pitting District against District prevented the people from turning their attention to the real enemy, and the Capitol knew it. And now they were forcing cross-District alliances? Something that would force the districts to acknowledge the existence of the other, to learn from each other, to see themselves as allies rather than enemies? It didn’t fit. This had to be a trap. A sudden, horrible image invaded his mind – two tributes, allies – together at the end of the Games, expecting for a hovercraft to come pick them up, to announce them joint Victors. An announcement would come – but it would declare that the new rule had been revoked, and the once-allies would be forced to kill each other. Haymitch smiled bitterly. Instead of seeing opposing districts as allies, they would forever see them as the monsters that broke the alliance first in order to win. Co-operation would become impossible.

He couldn’t let that happen.

Of course, there was little he could do to stop it. But he could _make_ them feel it. He could make the Capitol view his tributes as people – people with lives, people with families, people with feelings – not just pieces in their Games, born and killed for their entertainment. He thought back on the President’s words, mind latching onto the parts about a longer training period, and lengthy interviews with the families of the tributes.

A plan began forming; a tentative, hopeful plan. One that could go wrong in so many ways, but could also, if he was lucky – if his tributes played their parts convincingly – go right.

He _would_ make them feel it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Rose and Luisa meet face-to-face in the next chapter, I promise.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and Luisa both reflect on what Snow's announcement means for them, as well as forming the beginnings of a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -So they don't actually meet in this chapter, BUT DEFINITELY IN THE NEXT ONE, I PROMISE. This was meant to be a short scene that would ease the transition between the parade and training, but morphed into an entire chapter...

There was little time for Rose and Daniel to process both the parade itself and the President’s shock announcement as almost as soon as they had stepped off the chariot they were being promptly escorted to the apartment designated for the use of District Twelve. The penthouse suite, as Effie enthusiastically informed them. It was beautiful – large, open spaces decorated with spectacular paintings, several ornaments that probably cost more than even the largest house in District Twelve – but Rose was unable to take in any of it. Anger was curdling in the pit of her stomach, and it took everything in her not to scream, to hit something, to smash every fucking pretentious glass decoration within a five mile radius. She was livid – she’d spent the best part of the last few years being angry, but rarely had it come close to this scale. She was furious at the fickle crowd, furious at the game-makers for making this stupid decision but perhaps most importantly of all, furious at Snow.

She stalked over to the large glass table, at which Haymitch was already sitting, and slammed her hands emphatically onto the hard surface. The impact caused vibrations to ripple across the table. ‘What the hell is going on, Haymitch?’

‘Nice to see you too, sweetheart. I’m fine, thanks for asking.’ He made no reaction to Rose’s dramatic gesture, and his voice was laced with sarcasm. ‘Why don’t you sit down? We can eat, enjoy the good food. And the liquor, of course. No good meal without that.’

There was a peculiar edge to his voice, as if he was trying really hard to get Rose to follow his suggestion. She was too incensed to pick up on it, however. ‘I don’t want to sit down, I what to know what the f-’

He sighed in frustration and clenched his jaw. He raised one of his hands up in an arching motion, as if to emphasise his previous point and knocked over a pitcher of salt in the process.

‘Oops.’ He said. He didn’t sound particularly sorry. Two servers immediately rushed to help pick it up, but he waved them away. ‘It’s all good guys, Rose will help me with this, _won’t you_?’

She would have had to have been an idiot to miss the emphasis in his voice that time, so she reluctantly squatted down to offer him assistance – though her cumbersome dress made it difficult. He batted away her hand, and began tracing a crude shape in the spilled salt. He was no artist, but Rose could make out the outline of some kind of insect.

She inhaled sharply – a bug. Of _course_ the rooms were bugged. It was all that was needed to slam her back into reality. She was still _furious_ , but forced the emotions down. She could deal with them later; this was a more pressing problem. She couldn’t unleash her frustrations onto Haymitch here – much as she may want to, it wouldn’t solve anything and would probably result in some form of punishment in the arena.

When Haymitch was sure she’d gotten the message, he wiped away the drawing before anyone else could see it. The two then actually worked to clean up the rest of the salt. When they were done, he looked up at her and said in a measured, calm voice, ‘So, how about that food, sweetheart?’

‘You know what? On second thought, I’m starving. Let’s eat.’

The dinner was awkward – it was one thing to put on a performance when she could see the cameras, but it was quite another when they were invisible. It would probably be good training for the arena, but was still unsettling in the moment. Haymitch and Effie did their best to break the tension by keeping up their usual stream of bickering – they found ways to disagree on even the most mundane of topics. It was oddly entertaining to watch, and would certainly placate the bugs.

Upon the meal’s conclusion, Haymitch set his fork down and made a show of stretching contentedly. He said casually, ‘There’s a great spot up on the roof – you can get a really great view of the Capitol from there. Really clears the mind, let’s the truth come out. You guys think you’re up for it?’

Rose read between the lines – the roof would be unbugged, and he would explain everything there. The meal had had a strangely normalising effect on her – food could do that to someone who’s had to go without it as often as she had – but she was still angry, still wanted answers. She didn’t give Daniel a chance to so much as open his mouth before she said, ‘Of course. A chance to clear my head would be great. Let’s get going.’

* * *

 

When the trio – that is, Rose, Daniel and Haymitch – arrived on the roof, she immediately saw why Haymitch had suggested this place. There was a large fan near the centre, emitting a constant volume of noise that would be sure to interfere with any bugs that may be present.

‘You guys can talk freely here. Say whatever it is you have to say.’

The anger that had been placated somewhat by dinner rose to the surface and exploded. ‘What the FUCK is going on, Haymitch? This has never happened before, why now? What are they trying to achieve?’

Her mentor sighed. ‘Nothing good, kid. They’re not trying to achieve anything good. They’ll make a lot of noise about cross-district cooperation and maybe even make a couple of token gestures, but mark my words – they have no intention of letting two tributes walk away from this alive. They’ll arrange an “accident” so that there’s only a single Victor anyway, or even force you guys to kill each other. My money’s on the last one. Whatever happens, the Districts will walk away from this more fractured than when it began.’

Daniel opened his mouth then, Rose still too furious to speak. ‘Why? What purpose could that possibly serve?’

Haymitch snorted. ‘Good question. It’s one a lot of people don’t think to ask. Riddle me this: what purpose do the Games have?’

Daniel answered slowly, trying to put due consideration into his answer. He’d always enjoyed school, enjoyed answering theoretical questions like this. ‘To punish the Districts for the uprising, and to make sure it doesn’t happen again.’

The older man shook his head. ‘Wrong.’ He paused to consider. ‘Well, not entirely, I suppose, but there’s more going on. Why not just get twenty-four kids and shoot them outright, if that was their only intention? Why pit them against each other?’

Rose, who had been stewing in her anger and was irritated at the philosophical line that the conversation had taken, found her interest reluctantly piqued. In her years of training, she’d never particularly considered this. She’d been focused on learning everything she could about surviving the Games, not pondering the intent behind their creation.

‘Just tell us, then.’

Haymitch shot her a glare, but there was no real venom behind it. ‘Why, I’d almost forgotten that you could speak, sweetheart.’ He said sarcastically. When she refused to drop her own glare, he relented. ‘Fine, I’ll tell you.’

 

‘The purpose of the Games is to prevent the Districts from trusting one another, to keep the lines of communication closed. The Capitol has official regulations preventing cross-district communication, but if people wanted to, they’d find a way to circumvent that. Problem is, people _don’t_ want to. Watching their children get slaughtered every year prevents people from seeking closer ties with the District that murdered them. It stops them from turning to the real enemy – the Capitol.’

This was the most openly seditious speech Rose had ever heard, and she was left somewhat in awe. There was little love for the Capitol in District Twelve, but few dared speak against them openly. She herself ranted darkly in the woods where there was no one to hear, but had overall been more concerned with finding her next meal. His words took bravery - you never knew if the person you spoke rebellious words to was a Capitol spy or not – as well as no small measure of intelligence. She felt her estimation of the man rise – she could see clearly now the man that had won his Games. This was new – she’d never particularly respected the authority figures back home, nor had they respected her.  

She wanted to do something – something that would prove that she was worthy of this trust, but more importantly, that she could achieve the same thing he did. ‘So if these new rules will make everything worse, we just ignore them. Sign papers with whoever but then not join with them in the arena. It’ll avoid the unnecessary drama, and stop them from getting what they want.’

He smiled at her, but shook his head. ‘Nice idea sweetheart, but no. You saw how the crowd reacted at the parade – they want this. They want to see cross-district alliances at work. They’re either too stupid to see or don’t care where this will end up. If you want cameras to pay any attention to you in the Games, you need an ally. A charismatic one, one they’ll also pay attention to. You made an impression at the parade – they’re calling you the Girl on Fire. That’s powerful – don’t let a personality issue ruin the momentum you’ve created.’

Rose was affronted. ‘Personality issue? What personality issue? I don’t have a personality issue!’

Haymitch snorted. ‘Sweetheart, you’ve been glaring at me almost constantly the entire time we’ve been up here.’ He sighed. ‘Fine. Maybe it’s not a personality issue, just a people one. You don’t like them. Trust me, I get it. I grew up on the Seam too. It’s hard – people can be unforgiving if you’re different to them. Most of the people here are worse. But you need to appeal to them – you’ve been doing a good job so far, but smiling and waving prettily is one thing when you’re clean, warm and have a reasonably full stomach. It’s another thing when you’re in the arena and it’s either freezing or boiling and you haven’t bathed or eaten in days.’

She considered his words, and said in a voice that lacked her usual confidence, ‘So what do I do? Am I supposed to just let them go through with their plan? Find an ally, connect with them, only to kill them? How does that do anything other than serve their agenda?’

Haymitch surveyed his tributes, then said carefully, ‘We’re going to make them feel it. They’ve added new features to the Games this year – extended interviews with the families of the tributes, that kind of thing – and we’re going to turn them into mechanisms we can use. We’re going to make them think of you guys as actual people, not just pawns for their entertainment. They’re going to feel it when every single tribute dies. Feel it because a person has died, not just their favourite. We’ll make them clamour for the game-makers to uphold their promise. Tomorrow, you’re going to go to training and it’s important that you think carefully about who you’ll ally with. We’ll find some way to get them up here and up to speed once you’ve chosen.’ He exhaled. ‘Any other questions? We can’t stay up here too long, or they’ll get suspicious.’

Rose shook her head. This whole conversation had given her a lot to think about – her entire perspective of the Games had just been upended, not to mention the strategy that she’d spent years honing had been rendered practically worthless. It was a lot to process.

And tomorrow would be another big, big day.

* * *

 

Luisa was escorted to the District One apartment and, overall, was sporting a much different mindset to Rose. She _knew_ that the Capitol couldn’t be trusted – Jane’s reaping had shown her that much – but the thing was, she also knew that there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. If the Capitol wanted to turn these whole Games into some kind of grand demonstration of their power, they would do it. A single demonstration of resistance from a single tribute wasn’t enough – said tribute would just die in the attempt.

So she’d play their game – she’d find an ally, and try to win. For her brother. For Jane. For herself.

She’d wanted an ally from the very beginning, of course, but now it was mandatory. She’d tried to remember little things about every tribute, because there was really no telling who she’d click with in training, but only one person had really caught her eye: the girl from District Twelve. She was by far the most attractive person Luisa had ever seen. After she’d managed to carve out a place for herself in District One, she’d been with a couple of women, but none of the relationships had lasted very long and none of them had had the effect on her that this girl seemed to. She was truly stunning, and Luisa knew that she’d happily carry the memory of her in that flaming parade gown with her for the rest of her life, however short it may now be.

Luisa was not the only tribute that Rose had made an impression on, it seemed. Marvel stalked out of the elevator and towards the table, sitting down aggressively. He was mumbling under his breath about something – Luisa caught the words “flames” and “Twelve” – and suppressed a smirk. She’d try doubly hard to ally with Rose if it meant it would piss off Marvel.

Esteban and Rogelio joined them at the table. Rogelio smiled widely and congratulated them on their performance at the parade – ‘You were spectacular! The crowd could not take their eyes off you, and Esteban and I have been fielding sponsorship offers ever since.’ He turned to the escort. ‘Haven’t we, Esteban?’

‘Yeah, sure. They seemed to like you guys well enough.’

‘Big deal. Whatever attention we might have gotten went away when that bitch from District Twelve came out.’

‘That’s not true!’ Rogelio protested. ‘Yes, that girl looked incredible. The flames were amazing, a touch of creative genius but she in no way upstaged you.’

Marvel snorted, and even Luisa found his words difficult to believe – she knew that Rose had upstaged her, the woman had managed to upstage President Snow for crying out loud – but she wasn’t bitter. Luisa had done well at the parade, not as well as Rose had but enough to attract sufficient attention from sponsors. It was enough, at this early stage. She was a competitive person, especially when given someone to run against, but she knew there was little that could be done here. Perhaps it would be different in training.

She turned to her mentor, and asked, ‘So what’s this about the rule change? If we need to get an ally, what should our strategy be?’

Esteban answered before Rogelio. ‘District Two has already suggested an exchange. Luisa, you could ally with Cato – or Clove if you prefer – and Marvel could go with the other. Two has always been an ally to us, not much has to change. The four of you could still form the usual alliance, there’s nothing preventing a larger group from forming, it just claims that only paired allies can win.’

Rogelio looked anxiously towards Luisa as Esteban suggested this – he knew her opinion on the likes of District Two. She didn’t need to think about her answer for a second. ‘Tell them thank you for the offer, but no. I’ll choose my own ally.’

Esteban levelled her with a stern look. ‘Don’t be stupid. You’ve seen Cato and Clove. They’re the best tributes on offer, and they’re willing to side with you. You’d be a fool to refuse – it’ll make you a target, you know that.’

She shook her head, standing firmly by her principles. That was something she was used to. People always questioned her Games-related resolutions, but she knew what she believed, what she wanted. ‘No. I’ll ally with someone else.’

Both Esteban and Marvel snorted. ‘Who? Who could possibly compete with District Two for both physical prowess and sponsorship money?’

‘You already mentioned how impressive the girl from District Twelve seems. I’d like to give her a chance, see what she’s like.’

‘A flashy parade costume is one thing, but did you see the size of her? She’s tiny. She looks like Cato would be able to snap her in half without breaking a sweat. And District Twelve are a bunch of losers – they haven’t won since Abernathy, and that was a fluke.’

His protestations were only making her more resolute. ‘I know what I want.’

‘And we’ll support you in that,’ said Rogelio, as he gave Esteban a shove, ‘ _won’t we_ , Esteban?’

Esteban murmured his assent, though he seemed sour about it. The meal continued somewhat awkwardly after that – Marvel and Esteban were stubbornly silent, though Rogelio and Luisa tried to fill the silence with amiable chatter. It worked, to some degree, and the meal eventually ended, leaving both tributes free to retire to their appointed bedrooms.

Her quarters were even more impressive than her room at the Marbella – by a long shot. There was an unusual screen mounted on the wall, something like a projector. It seemed to function as a strange kind of wallpaper. A control lay on the table next to it, and Luisa picked it up. She flicked a button aimlessly, and was startled when the image on the screen changed. She pressed another button, and it changed again, revealing another beautiful scenery. She played around with this for a while, allowing the pretty images to sooth her while she processed the events of the day. A lot had happened – yet she somehow felt better than she had this time yesterday.

Maybe she’d be able to do this after all, especially if she had help.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Also known as the one in which THEY FINALLY MEET

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of you guys have told me how excited you are for their first meeting to take place, so I hope this doesn't disappoint.   
> Also, a huge thank you to Cate for drawing art inspired by this, you should all go check it out, it's amazing!

Rose was the first to arrive in the training area the following morning. She’d risen bright and early, throwing on the training gear that had been laid out for her. It was a habit she’d picked up from years of having to hunt before school, though she had to admit that excitement also played a role. The equipment that she used in District Twelve had been makeshift at best, crafted by hand out of any spare material that she could find. It had taken her a long time to construct her bow and quiver full of arrows – Elena had sent her to the woods with vague instructions that hadn’t been very useful – and longer still to learn how to properly use them. She’d been forced to use large sticks or other pieces of wood to function as spears and swords, but today she’d be able to use the best equipment money could buy.

She took that in as she stepped into the training centre. There were the usual survival stations – plant identification, shelter-making, knot-tying, etc. – which she knew were important, and made a mental note to spend some time in over the course of the twelve-day period, but it was the mounds of weapons that really drew her attention. This was the kind of thing that she’d been missing – swords of every size and design, actual metal spears with deadly-looking tips, and a dizzying array of throwing knives. In the centre, most pleasing of all, was a bow surrounded by a multitude of artificial targets.

Thus far, she’d been forced to rely on her looks to win the affection of the audience and the attention of the other tributes. She didn’t mind that, not really – she was attractive, and she knew it. If her looks got her what she wanted, then that was all that mattered. But at the same time, she wanted to prove she was more than that – more than just a pretty face, more than a talented stylist. She wanted them to see her as a genuine threat, as the person who would win the Games.

That was why her eyes lingered longingly on the bow. As other people trickled in, she knew that she’d be able to prove in five minutes flat that she was someone to be feared. People would be lining up to be her ally, she’d have no need to play nice with anyone.

But Haymitch had very specifically warned her against that, and she could very reluctantly see his point. He claimed that he always told his tributes to hide their skills during the training period to give themselves the element of surprise in the arena. This year, she’d have to demonstrate _some_ skill in order to make people want to team up with her, but the bow would be her trump card, something to surprise the game-makers with. She was to stay away from it.

This resolution was proving difficult, however. As she stayed hunched in one of the survival stations, half-heartedly trying to make a fire, a girl from District Four approached her bow. As she readied an arrow, Rose could tell immediately that she wouldn’t hit her target – her posture was way off. The girl’s line-of-sight revealed that she was aiming for the heart, but when the arrow was released it veered slightly off course, burying itself in the arm of the dummy. The people around her seemed impressed that she’d even managed to hit the target at all, and Rose felt her frustration mount – she’d easily be able to hit all those targets in the heart, or any other place that she chose to attack.

 But no, she couldn’t.

There _were_ other things she could do – things that would prove that she was someone to watch, while not revealing her greatest strength. She examined the other weapon stands closely – while she wanted to get better with swords and spears, she wasn’t hugely confident with them and they thus would not make the best impression. She’d never become strong enough to lift weights, not over the length of time that training gave her, anyway.

Knife-throwing – now _that_ was something she could do. Archery had given her excellent aim, and she was sure that it was a skill that would translate reasonably well onto other weapons. She’d tried it a few times in the woods, and while she hadn’t been as good with a knife as she was with a bow, she could still do some considerable damage.

There was a girl already at the station – the small but fierce one from District Two. Clove, she thought her name was. Rose had to admit that she was good – she hit every target that was placed in front of her, likely in exactly the place that she’d been intending. She would make a very useful ally.

She noticed Rose’s approach, and sneered. ‘Think you can do better, Twelve? There’s no pretty dress to save you here.’

Rose felt her own mouth twist into a cruel frown. Okay, maybe not allies then. But that was fine -there was still twenty-one other tributes to choose from. She’d settle for showing this one what she was made of. There were a number of bitter retorts on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t verbalise any of them. Action would be more effective than any petty quip. She seized a knife from the rack and hurled it in the direction of the direction of the central practice dummy, taking barely a second to aim. It hit its mark perfectly, embedding itself in the place where the heart would have been, had it been a real person.

Clove was impressed, but desperately tried to hide it. ‘Big deal. So you had beginner’s luck. I bet you couldn’t do it agai-’

She didn’t have time to finish that sentence, as Rose quickly threw two more knives. There was a satisfying _thunk_ as both found their targets – one in the head of the dummy on the right, the other in the groin of the left. Clove blanched, then retreated – muttering unpleasant words under her breath as she did so. Rose looked around the room, and noticed that several tributes quickly ducked their heads and attempted to look busy. They had been watching. Good – hopefully they’d gotten the message. She allowed herself a moment to revel in it before moving onto the next station.

She chose something more mundane – one of the survival stations. She’d made a big enough splash to get herself noticed, and now it was time to more closely follow the other part of Haymitch’s instructions. Besides, this particular station was important – there was no way of knowing whether or not the plants in the arena would be the same as the ones back home. She settled down, and flicked through the screen that displayed the names and properties of the plants of Panem, trying to absorb as much as she could.

She hadn’t gotten very far when someone approached her. He was large and muscular – handsome enough, if that was the kind of thing you were into. She found it difficult to place him, and couldn’t quite remember which District he was from.

He extended a hand to her. ‘S’up. The name’s Marvel, District One.’

Ah. That would explain it. Rose had found it hard to concentrate on anyone other than his district partner whenever the two were onscreen together. Luisa caused him to… fade into the background, somewhat.

She shook his hand, and introduced herself in return. There was nothing about him that particularly spoke to her – and in all honesty, she’d prefer to ally with his partner – but it wouldn’t hurt to hear him out. Maybe he’d be able to put in a good word for her if he knew his female counterpart well.

‘So what do you say, Twelve? You and me, think we could be allies? I think we’d work _very_ well together, if you know what I mean.’ He fixed her with a look that she could only describe as a leer, and his very body language reeked of a cocky overconfidence.  

Just like that, the illusion was dispelled and any fleeting chance of an alliance was thrown out of the window. She glared at him so icily that she could practically hear Haymitch whisper _personality issues_ in her head. ‘I’ll pass, thanks. I think I can take care of myself for the time being.’

There was more she wanted to say to him – so much more. She didn’t like that he thought he could speak to her that way, and for it to be acceptable – that he could go and talk to someone else that way, and think that it was alright – but there was little she could do. She eyed the knives that she’d earlier abandoned at their station, and wished it wasn’t only practice dummies that she was permitted to hit. She briefly weighed to pros and cons of disregarding the rules and ending him now, and it was only the thought of being punished for it in the arena that stopped her.

He smirked, apparently not realising the danger in her expression. ‘You’ll regret that. I saw you reject Clove as well. You may have a decent throwing arm, but that won’t get you very far, not without one of us standing there with you. Good luck, you’re going to need it.’

He stalked away angrily, leaving Rose in the same position that she’d started in, only much more furious. Plants could wait – she needed something to take out her aggression on. Maybe this would be an ideal time to try the sword – she could think of nothing more pleasing that taking out her frustration on a practice dummy,  and perhaps even imagining Marvel or Clove’s faces as she did.

* * *

 

Luisa entered the training area later than most – it was remarkably similar to that of District One. In fact, the weapon stations were almost identical. Same layout, same weapons, same brands. She’d been training with equipment like this for years, and wasn’t particularly enthused to do any more. She didn’t feel any special urge to make herself an even bigger target by demonstrating her reluctant talents, and this was only compounded by the fact that the kind of people she’d want to ally with were likely also planning on sticking to the shadows, allowing the Careers to duke it out over the weapon stands.

The survival stations were something different - few of those were available in the training centre in District One. Membership of the Career pack – and therefore, access to supplies at the Cornucopia -  had been such a staple of her district’s strategy for so long that instructors felt little need to teach basic survival. If she and her ally were going to have to make it on their own in the wilds, this was something she’d need to learn, and quickly. 

She made her way over to them, and surveyed both the equipment and the people there. Most were from Districts outside of the Career belt, and looked at her warily as she approached. It stung, but she could understand where they were coming from. They couldn’t know that she wasn’t like Cato or Marvel, wasn’t looking at them like they were easy targets. To them, she was just another Career – someone who’d grown up with more food than they ever did, someone who has relished in the special training she received and was looking for ways to use it against them.

She went from station to station, learning as much as she could in the time window allocated to each tribute. She knew she’d need to return to some, but the training period would be twelve days long – she’d have time. Hopefully. She talked to several tributes as she did so. Some overcame their initial wariness, and were able to have pleasant conversations with her. Little Rue from District Eleven – the girl that reminded her so acutely of Jane – turned out to be quite a whizz with plants. She’d shared some pointers with Luisa, and Luisa in turn had promised to give her a crash course in knife wielding. The poor thing was so small, Luisa doubted that she’d be able to properly handle anything bigger.

Ultimately, though, she didn’t speak with anyone that she thought she’d be able to ally with. There’d been no spark, no connection that would keep both her sanity in the arena and the interest of the audience. She’d liked a lot of them, but that in itself was almost a bad thing – she was unsure how she’d be able to cope with killing someone in the first place, never mind someone she’d gotten to know.

Luisa was startled out of her reverie by the beginnings of a confrontation somewhere in her peripheral vision. She turned, and saw Rose glare fiercely at who she thought was Clove, the female tribute from District Two, before seizing a dagger and hurling it at her target. She managed to hit it right in the heart, and Luisa watched in awe as she managed to do it twice more within the space of a couple of seconds, taking very little time to aim. _Wow_. Despite her training, Luisa had never been very good at forms of combat that involved aiming. She’d been more focused on the more physical – hand-to-hand at first, in order to get Marvel and the others off her back. Afterwards, it had seemed natural to progress towards disciplines that allowed her to use the muscle she’d formed as a result – sword-fighting and spear-throwing, for instance.

She looked at the other woman’s shoulders – and forced herself to be critical about it, rather than just admiring them. Unlike the rest of her body, muscle had formed both there and along her arms. Knife-throwing alone wouldn’t accomplish that – Luisa was willing to bet that she was an archer. _And yet_ , she thought, _I don’t see her going anywhere near the bow_. Perhaps that was part of her strategy – to keep her greatest talent as a surprise. That showed intelligence, and Luisa felt her admiration for the other woman rise with every passing moment.

After the confrontation with Clove, Rose retreated to the plant identification station that Luisa had previously vacated. Luisa geared herself up to go and speak with her – this was her moment, the one that could save her life – but just when she found herself ready, someone else beat her to the punch.

Fucking Marvel. Of course.

 Luisa wasn’t an angry person – her friends had pointed out to her on several occasions that it wasn’t necessarily a good thing, as she tended to allow people to walk all over her in order to avoid a conflict. But now – now she felt something unpleasant rise up within her as she saw Marvel shake the other woman’s hand. She couldn’t make out what he was saying, but she recognised the expression on his face – cocky, arrogant, completely sure that he’d get everything he wanted. He’d used it on her more than once, normally in the moments immediately preceding particularly violent altercations. 

She _wouldn’t_ let him do the same with another woman. Not if she could do anything to stop it. She moved towards the plant identification station, ready to intervene when the moment presented itself.

Her movement stilled when she caught sight of the other woman’s face. She looked as if she was ready to kill Marvel then and there. Luisa certainly understood the impulse. Her face was pure ice, and there was an intensity to her eyes that she had seldom seen the likes of before. It was utterly transfixing, but also kind of terrifying.

Marvel walked away from the confrontation in a huff, evidently not pleased with the direction that it had taken. He seemed genuinely frustrated, and Luisa felt a smile spread across her face. It was about time someone else brought him down a peg or two. Too many people allowed him to get away with his actions, or even encouraged them, and she was glad to discover that Rose wouldn't do the same.

She turned her attention back to Rose, whom had retreated to another station. Luisa realised with a start that it was the sword-fighting one. That was something she could help with! She suddenly found herself grateful for the hours she'd been forced to spend in the District One training centre on that very discipline - if it helped her talk to a pretty girl, it would be worth it.

A closer examination of the red-head's form, however, made her hesitate. Her movements seemed stiff and jerky, as if she was still holding on to residual anger. Maybe approaching her right now wouldn't be the best idea; not if she didn't want to be verbally eviscerated at any rate.

A compromise, then. She'd stay here and pretend to be paying attention to - whatever it was that this station was trying to teach her - while quietly observing the other woman, making mental notes of potential pointers that she could give to her when she did decide to make her way over.

* * *

 

Rose swore as pain flared in her wrist. She’d thought that taking out her frustrations on the practice dummy would lessen her anger, but instead it was only causing it to grow because she just _could not get it right, dammit._ Turns out there was quite a considerable difference between using a makeshift wooden sword and a proper metal one. It was maddening.

She could feel the eyes of other tributes on her – these were eyes that had looked at her with something resembling awe when she’d demonstrated her skill with a knife – but were now dismissive, almost jeering. It felt like they were saying, _aw, look at the poor district girl, seems like she was just a one-trick pony_.

Someone behind her cleared their throat, and said, ‘You know, you’ll have a lot more luck with that if you just change your grip a little. Here, let me-’

Rose whirled around, an angry retort on the tip of her tongue. It died in her mouth, however, when she saw who had spoken to her. She was short – several inches shorter than her – but seemed powerfully built, and Rose could make out impressive muscles beneath the close-fitting lycra training gear. Her dark hair, which Rose had previously only seen long and loose, was tied back in a messy ponytail.

To Rose, Luisa looked as beautiful now as she had the night of the Parade.

Instead of an angry comeback, Rose tried to imbue her voice with her usual confidence as she said, ‘I’ve got it covered.’ She swung the sword at the practice dummy for emphasis, only for her grip to falter and the weapon to fall out of her hand. It fell to the ground with a clatter, and Rose felt her cheeks grow hot. She threw a cursory glance around the room, and mercifully, no-one appeared to be looking.

No-one except for Luisa, that is. Said woman was currently sporting a small smirk. ‘I told you that you had a problem with your grip.’ Rose shot her a glare, and Luisa held up her hands as if in mock surrender. ‘Okay, fine, fine. I won’t tease you anymore. But I really can help, you know. Will you let me show you now?’

Rose relented with a huff. Dropping her sword in front of the other woman had been humiliating, but this seemed like a good opportunity to improve a skill she’d more than likely need. And unlike Marvel or Clove, she wasn’t offering in order to lord her strength over the District Twelve rube, but because she seemed genuinely earnest in her desire to help.

‘Fine. Show me what I was doing wrong.’

Luisa nodded, and smiled brightly up at Rose – who in turn felt her stomach do a kind of nervous flip. _That_ was most definitely new. She shoved the feeling aside, and focused on what the other woman was saying.

‘Okay, just pick up the sword and hold it like you were before. We’ll start from there.’

Rose did as indicated. Luisa circled her, seemingly deep in thought. For such a short woman, she seemed to be able to command an unusual amount of power while performing such a simple task. Rose couldn’t have taken her eyes off her if she tried. ‘Stand with your legs further apart, and turn to the side a bit. You’re thin, you can use that to your advantage – smaller target.  Also, easier to defend.’

‘Won’t that make it harder to get in a more powerful shot?’ She asked.

‘Not if you’re quick about it. The people you’d be facing in a sword-fight will likely be much bigger than you, so you’ll need to be really fast to get one over on them.’

‘Okay. I get it. You mentioned something about grip earlier? How can I improve that?’

‘For starters, this is a one-handed sword. You were using two. I know it might seem too heavy, but you’ve got to push through it. Let me show you.’ She removed one of Rose’s hands from the hilt, and gently manoeuvred the other into the correct position. The contact sent a thrill through Rose’s body, which lingered long after Luisa pulled her hand away.

‘That should be a lot better. Give it a try!’

Rose swung the sword at the practice dummy, making contact. It wasn’t a perfect hit, but it was a damn sight better than her previous attempts. She hadn’t dropped the sword, anyway, nor was her wrist in any pain.

She offered Luisa a rare smile. It was a pretty one – more genuine than those she’d offered to the cameras, and without even the slightest hint of cruelty. It wasn’t something she had occasion to do very often, but she found that she meant it now. ‘Thank you.  I feel like I’ll be able to get a hang of this with a little more practice.’

However, living in the Seam had taught Rose that nothing in life is free, and that owing someone was a very precarious position to be in. She thought it best to take care of that now, before it became an issue later on. ‘Let me show you something in return, something you’ll be able to use in the Games.’

Luisa looked a little affronted at the suggestion. ‘I didn’t show you that expecting to get something out of it. I just wanted to help.’

Rose made her voice appear gentler. With other people, that was always difficult and thus she rarely bothered. With Luisa though, it seemed to come easier than most. ‘Even so, let me return the favour.’ She threw an imploring glance around the room, looking for something she’d be able to show Luisa. Her eyes settled, as they were prone to do, on the bow.

‘I have an idea,’ she said, with a careful smirk lighting up her face. It was both excited and just a little dangerous, and Luisa was enthralled. Rose, almost without thinking, took the other woman’s hand and led her towards the archery station.

Luisa allowed herself to be led, and smiled lightly at the sight of their intertwined hands. This was going better than she could have expected – judging by the mood that the redhead had previously been in, she thought that she’d be immediately rebuffed in the same way that Marvel and Clove had.

But that hadn’t happened, and instead, Luisa had felt the spark – the same spark that had been lacking in her interactions with the other tributes. Something in her gut told her that it ran deeper than a desire to be allies, but she figured that that would be a good place to start.

She’d never been a fan of archery – it wouldn’t have helped much with her problems with Marvel and his cronies, as she couldn’t exactly carry a bow around with her 24/7 – so she’d largely ignored it. But now, as Rose confidently picked up a bow and deftly handed it to her, she was beginning to see the appeal.

‘So, how come I haven’t seen you with a bow before this? You look like someone who knows how to handle one.’

Rose raised a surprised eyebrow. ‘How could you tell?’

‘The fact that you’re showing me this is kind of a giveaway. Also, your shoulders.’

‘My shoulders? What about them?’

A slight blush crept onto Luisa’s cheeks. ‘Well, you know – they’re all… muscular.’ _God,_ she thought _, I’m normally smoother than this._

‘And have you been staring at my muscular shoulders?’ Asked Rose, a definite smirk in place and a single eyebrow raised.

Luisa’s flush deepened. ‘N-no. Of course not!’ In a last-ditch effort to regain some control over the situation, she said, ‘Anyway, you didn’t answer my question: how come you didn’t go for the bow from the get go?’

Rose decided to take mercy on the other woman and spare her the embarrassment – though the temptation was there to keep going. She looked adorable when she was all flustered – like some kind of confused puppy – big eyes and all. ‘My mentor thought it best to keep my strongest talent to myself, to give myself an edge in the arena.’

Luisa nodded, glad to be given a reprieve. ‘I thought it might be something like that. Your mentor’s Haymitch, right? He visited the hotel a couple times, seems pretty smart to me. Worth listening to.’

Rose gritted her teeth, knowing full well that Haymitch would be able to hear every word of this on the video-feed that mentors were given to keep track of their tributes. She could picture his smug face now, murmuring _damn right, sweetheart_ into the camera. She didn’t think he needed the ego boost that this conversation would give him, but nevertheless found her curiosity piqued. ‘Hotel?’

‘My father runs a hotel back home, most of the Victors have visited it at some point or another. He wanted me to inherit it someday, so I sometimes entertained the Victors – giving tours of the District, making sure they had enough to drink, that kind of thing. Haymitch came by a few times – not as many as other Victors, but we talked. I don’t know how much he remembers – he was pretty drunk – but I always got the impression that he was smart, under all that.’

Rose listened carefully to Luisa’s story – it was very different to her own. Her attention caught on one particular turn of phrase, however. ‘You said that it was your father who wanted you to inherit the hotel. What is it that you want?’

‘I enjoyed entertaining the Victors – they’re an interesting bunch, that’s for sure – but it’s not what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I wanted to do something that would help people – study medicine, probably. My teacher said that I was in with a good shot at getting into a Capitol University. I guess that’s something that won’t happen, now.’ She looked down as she said this, breaking eye contact with Rose. There was an odd catch in her voice.

Rose was unsure if how to deal with this situation – she’d never particularly been in a situation where she had to give comfort, nor had she any special desire to be in one. ‘You don’t know what’ll happen in the days to come. Maybe you’ll surprise yourself.’ She paused, and tried to inject a certain degree of brightness into her voice – it was a strange sensation. ‘In the meantime, why don’t I show you some archery? It’ll be a good skill for you to have in the arena.’

‘Won’t that ruin the surprise?’

‘I don’t need to shoot it; I just need to guide you to do it. Like so.’ She took Luisa’s right hand and placed it on the centre of the bow, leaving her own hand covering it. ‘Make sure your hand is relaxed,’ she murmured into Luisa’s ear. ‘Don’t grip it too tightly.’ She guided Luisa’s left hand into pulling back the string, making sure the arrow was still in place. ‘Good. Now, pick your target. Use your dominant eye. Got it?’

Luisa nodded mutely, unable to muster up any sounds of confirmation. It took all her concentration to keep her eye on the target – Rose’s whispered instructions against her ear and the feel of her body against her own as she guided Luisa into the correct position was very… distracting. 

‘Now, breath in and – release!’ Rose and Luisa let go of the string in the same moment, and watched as it soared across the room and embedded itself into the target. It struck a couple of centimetres away from the place where the heart was supposed to be, but Luisa thought that it was good for her first attempt.

The two women, upon realising that they were still entangled together when there was no feasible excuse to be, separated awkwardly. There was a strained silence, before Luisa fixed a strand of hair that had fallen out of place and smiled up at Rose. ‘Well, how was that?’

Rose matched the other woman’s expression. ‘Good, especially for your first try. I’ll make a master archer of you yet.’

‘I had a good teacher.’ Feeling buoyed both by her success with the bow and her interaction with the other woman, Luisa decided to take the plunge. After all, the worst thing that could happen was a refusal – and, given that she was facing the prospect of the arena in a few days, that didn’t seem like so bad a fate. ‘So, you know – everyone needs to ally with someone this year. I kind of saw that you didn’t really hit it off with Clove and Marvel – and I don’t blame you, I can tell you that Marvel at least is an asshole – and since you presumably won’t be allying with them, I was wondering if maybe – only if you want to – you’d consider allying with me?’

She said all of this in a rush, deeply unsure of how it would be received. Without giving Rose a chance to respond, she continued on. ‘I could help you in the arena – District One gets a lot of sponsor money, and if we were together that would go towards helping you as well. Like you saw, I’m pretty good at a close range and I know how to treat injuries better than most. You don’t have to agree to anything now, but maybe we could go around some more of the stations together? See what we can learn from each other.’

When Luisa had finished speaking and Rose had an opportunity to open her mouth, she said, ‘I think that’s a great idea. It’s the first day – there isn’t much point in formalising anything yet, but looking around the stations will give us a chance to get to know each other better.’ A glint in her eye appeared as an idea struck her. ‘How about we make a game of it? Go to different stations, learn as much as we can, then get the supervisors to decide who did best in each one?’

Luisa grinned at the suggestion – she’d always been competitive, and having someone to compete against almost always pushed her into doing her best work. And it was _fun_ – something she knew would be in short supply over the next couple of weeks.  ‘Sounds good. Though I think you should prepare to lose, Twelve.’

Rose smirked. ‘In your dreams, One.’

* * *

 

The Capitol had seen fit to provide each mentor with a video feed of their tributes as they went through the training process, to allow them to better plan out potential strategies and network with other mentors to facilitate alliances. Haymitch watched his feeds with interest, an idea rapidly forming in his mind.

As much as he talked about the need to stop viewing other districts as enemies, he’d been wary when the girl from District One approached Rose. Similar things had happened in the past, and never ended well for his tributes. He’d been relieved when Rose had rebuffed Clove and Marvel, and also more than a little proud of the way that she’d done it. Not that he’d ever tell her that.

He’d been expecting something similar to happen when the girl walked up to her, especially judging the mood that she’d been in – he could see her practically vibrating with anger, ready to bite the head off of the next person who dared to come near. He’d been positively perplexed to see her bite down the retort that had clearly been on the tip of her tongue and give a response that had been almost pleasant.

Their later exchanges were… _interesting_. He hadn’t seen Rose behave this amicably with anyone since she’d gotten here – she’d gotten on well enough with Cinna, and managed civility with himself and Effie – but it couldn’t exactly be described as friendly. He didn’t know that she could smile this much.

The conversation about the hotel prompted Haymitch to remember with a jolt where he’d seen Luisa before. He didn’t go to the Marbella as often as most – too many Capitolites for his tastes – but he had been known to make the occasional appearance. The girl was right – the degree to which he remembered the trips always varied, as he, Chaff and a lot of liquor weren’t the best combination – but now, upon reflection, he did recall her. He thought that he remembered one occasion – she couldn’t have been more than five or six – where she’d stood up on a table and announced that she was going to sing everyone a song. It had been cute, a memory he’d taken away from his visit even after the alcohol had dimmed the rest. 

He’d panicked when he saw Rose approach the archery station – his instructions had been very explicit – but felt marginally better when she hadn’t fired the bow herself. It also didn’t look like anyone else had seen, so he’d let it slide. Watching the two of them in their archery lesson reminded him of scenes from Capitol romance movies that he’d flick on during the night whenever the insomnia took over. The movies themselves were pretty stupid, but audiences went wild for them.

Haymitch sat up straighter suddenly – his brain working a mile a minute, trying to keep up with the idea that was rapidly forming in his mind. He’d known as soon as Snow had made their announcement that he’d wanted to make the Capitol audience feel the same pain that the districts felt when their children were murdered, but he hadn’t been sure exactly _how_ to accomplish it. Until now.

The Capitol loved romance movies – often lost their collective shit over them – and together, Rose and Luisa looked like they were auditioning for a leading role. If he could make the audience think there was something going on between the two… there’d be riots in the streets when the change was inevitably revoked.

It would be a dirty play on his part – to manipulate the audience in such a way, especially giving that he’d have to also deceive the districts, not to mention how the girls themselves may feel about it – but the Capitol had set the tone for these Games when they decided to further play the districts against each other.

He wouldn’t let that go unpunished.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haymitch presents his plan to Rose and Luisa, to mixed reactions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the longer than usual wait guys, but I hope this longer chapter makes up for it.

Once the plan had solidified in his mind, Haymitch moved _fast_. The first – and potentially most important - step would be getting Luisa’s mentor on board. He’d not spent a lot of time with de la Vega, and only really knew the personality he put out there for the cameras. Granted, it was a pretty annoying one – constantly preening for the cameras, engaging with his “fans” – but as a Victor, Haymitch knew better than to take that at face value.

He approached the man – who was huddled around his own screen, which was likely showing the same feed as Haymitch’s as the girls were still gathered together – and remembered to add a drunken stumble for effect. He wasn’t actually drunk at this point – he’d had a bit, but only so much as was needed to stop the tremors that appeared whenever he went without. He was determined to stay as sober as possible for these Games – he used to stay sober every year, no matter how bad his drinking had been the rest of the time. He’d felt like he owed it to his tributes to be the best mentor he could be. He’d tried – _god_ , how he’d tried – but seeing them die every year regardless of any efforts on his part had gradually stripped him of his resolve until it became practically impossible to uphold.

This year, though, he had a gut feeling it would be different. There was something in Rose’s eyes – something dangerous, something determined to do anything that it took to survive, to _win_ – that was deeply familiar. He’d seen it reflected in his own eyes whenever he looked in a mirror, and in those of the majority of other Victors.

The rule change only provided further motivation. He’d always found sobriety easier when he had some kind of purpose, something he could throw his entire energy behind. An open act of rebellion would do nicely – it wouldn’t stop the persistent gnaw telling him to drink, but it might quieten it somewhat, push it back to a more manageable level.

Hell, he might even be able to make a difference – though he didn’t want to raise his hopes too high. _You’ve seen attempts like this go bad before_ , the cynic in him reminded him. _It doesn’t end well._

He slapped Rogelio on the back in what he hoped would appear a suitably masculine greeting. ‘Heeeeeey,’ he said, taking special care to slur his words, ‘You got a minute? Need to go over something with you. Maybe outside?’

Rogelio turned towards him, irritation apparent in his expression. ‘Can it not wait, Haymitch? I need to keep an eye on Luisa’s progress.’

‘C’mon, it’ll only take a minute.’ He allowed some urgency to creep into his voice, while trying to maintain his performance for the cameras that were subtly hidden but nevertheless present.

Mercifully, Rogelio seemed to catch on. He stood up, and said, ‘Fine, but not for too long. My fans will become confused if they see me out on the street and do not interact with them. I’m sure you know how it is.’ His visibly preened, but his voice was just a little too loud, a little too high.

It seems Haymitch was not the only one to realise the power of performance.

The two men exited the mentor’s lounge through a side door, which led them towards a seldom used balcony. It was small, but offered an impressive view of the bustling Capitol streets below. There was a cluster of Capitol citizens at the foot of the building, all waiting eagerly to catch a glimpse of the tributes in training. Some smart aleck must have spotted Rogelio emerge, because before long, dozens were looking up to the balcony and screaming his name, desperately trying to catch his attention.

Rogelio duly smiled and waved at them, and was greeted by rapturous applause. Haymitch used the time to discreetly remove the scrambler from his pocket and fix it firmly to the wall – hopefully, it should prevent anyone listening in from being able to catch their following conversation.

He cleared his throat, and Rogelio turned towards him, forced smile still in place. ‘We can talk freely here, but not for long. They’ll realise something’s up in about two minutes. I’ll get straight to it – this rule change is a load of garbage. It won’t mean anything good for the tributes, and probably not for the districts, either. I know we’ve never really spoken before, but I can tell you’re no idiot, you must have already known that.’

Rogelio nodded. He might have been inclined to believe the best in people once upon a time – namely when he was young and still basking in the early glories of Victorhood -  but not anymore. Any belief he might have had in the redeemability of the Capitol – however faint and misguided they may have been – went up in smoke the day his daughter had been reaped. Long before that, really. ‘Yes. But what can we do about it? It’s not exactly something we can control.’

‘Not directly, no. But look at all of them.’ He gestured towards the still-screaming crowd. ‘They’re obsessed – and that’s for one Victor who – no offence – won several years ago in a pretty standard Games. Imagine what they’d be like this year, with the possibility of two Victors being dangled in front of them. We have a real chance here – a chance to direct the narrative, to steer their hysteria into something that will benefit our tributes. Imagine it: “The Star-Crossed Lovers of Districts One and Twelve.”’

Rogelio tilted his head slightly, indicating his confusion, but there was nevertheless a glimmer of curiosity welling up inside of him - almost without his volition. This could be a chance for him to save Luisa. ‘Star-crossed lovers?’

‘Rose and Luisa. You’ve been watching the same feeds that I have, since they’ve spent the last couple hours together. There’s something there – some sort of connection. I don’t know if they realise it yet, but there is. I haven’t seen Rose behave like that with anyone else – she’s been very…’ He paused diplomatically, ‘…Surly, thusfar. And I can’t claim to know Luisa all that well, but she seemed happy too. More at ease, anyway. The audience will eat it up – we just need to convince the girls to go for it, or at least some kind of facsimile.’

Rogelio seemed to give the idea due consideration, and nodded slowly. ‘I can see Luisa agreeing to it. She’s always wanted an ally, and even mentioned Rose. She’d be able to perform. Can you say the same for your girl?’

Haymitch made a non-committal sound. ‘It might be hard to get her to accept it at first. She’s still not entirely sold on taking an ally at all – has notions of sticking it to the game-makers by going it alone. But she isn’t stupid, and there’s a better chance of convincing her to go through with it with Luisa than with anyone else.’

The two men continued to stand at the balcony, hammering out details and strategizing for as long as the scrambler would permit without arousing the suspicion of anyone listening in. Finally, they decided that they could stay out there no longer and began to make their way back to the training centre, where the tributes were finishing up training for the day. Rose and Luisa were still together, smiling and laughing over something, though Haymitch was unable to tell what.

‘We’d better form a united front,’ he muttured. ‘Follow my lead.’

* * *

 

‘I can’t believe you beat me at the knot-tying station,’ said Rose, though there was no real malice in her voice.

Luisa smirked. ‘Well, I _am_ pretty good at tying people up.’

Now _that_ was a visual. As much as she wanted to hold onto her righteous indignation – she was _sure_ that the instructor had been biased – she felt the corners of her mouth began to twitch, and laughter explode from between her lips. Before long, Luisa joined her.

They received some peculiar looks from those around them, but neither woman found themselves caring overmuch. When they had composed themselves, both were greeted with the sight of Haymitch and Rogelio standing side-by-side, beckoning them over. Rogelio wore a slight smile, seemingly happy to see Luisa so happy. Haymitch also seemed pleased, though his expression was more calculating, as if he was running through ideas in his mind.

Rose and Luisa shared looks of confusion, wordlessly trying to ask the other if they knew what was going on. It was unusual to see the two men standing together – their personalities were so disparate that they couldn’t have had much in common – nevermind for what seemed so united a purpose.

Haymitch noticed the silent exchange between the two tributes and smiled. _This might just be easier than I thought_. When they approached him – matching looks of suspicion on their faces - he said in as casual a tone as he could muster, ‘So, Rogelio and I noticed that the two of you’ve been hanging round each other a lot. We should talk about an alliance – on the roof, maybe?’ He looked pointedly at Rose as he said the last line.

Rose caught the look that Haymitch threw her. It allayed her suspicion somewhat, morphing it into something more closely resembling curiosity. They clearly needed to talk to them, and whatever they had to say was something they probably didn’t want anyone else to overhear. The roof would be unbugged.

She turned to Luisa, deciding to help the mentors out. ‘Let’s hear what they have to say. And it’s pretty nice up there.’

Luisa shrugged in acquiescence, and the quartet made their way to the roof, doing their best to appear casual and inconspicuous as they did so. For Rose and Luisa, this meant chatting amiably about nothing in particular. For Rogelio, it involved smiling and waving at cameras, as well as posing for the occasional picture with some of the younger and more excitable members of staff. Haymitch, meanwhile, could get away with being surly and disinterested. He was rather good at it.

All pretense was dropped as soon as they arrived at their destination. Just like last time, the large fan provided enough background noise to interfere with any bugs that may have been planted there.

‘Wow,’ Luisa breathed as she took in the scenery around her. It was beautiful – unlike anything she’d ever seen. District One was the most luxurious of all the Districts, but even that couldn’t come anywhere close to this. It was several hours past nightfall, yet the city seemed almost as bright as it had been during the day – lights were everywhere, many of them brightly coloured. This served to illuminate the hundreds of people still thronging the streets, going about their daily business, some meeting up with friends or family members. They all seemed so… normal. Nothing like the people who’d gladly be cheering for children to slaughter each other in a matter of days.

‘Yeah,’ replied Rose. ‘It’s certainly… something.’ She’d been too incensed to really take in the views the last time she’d been here, but it came easier to her now. Then again, maybe it was the company. Luisa certainly left her in a mood more open to appreciating beauty than Daniel.

Haymitch cleared his throat. ‘If you two are finished, we have something to run by you.’ He looked towards Rogelio. ‘Do you want to start?’

Rogelio shot him a grin. ‘I think this will sound better coming from you.’

‘Chickenshit,’ muttured Haymitch. ‘Okay, so – I assume you two are open to the prospect of an alliance? Especially since _someone_ has rebuffed every other person who dared approach them?’

Luisa smiled in response, while Rose nodded slowly – his reticence to speak now that he had the opportunity was causing her defences to creep back up.

‘Good. That’s good.’ He took a deep breath, anticipating the explosion that would likely follow. ‘Rose, you remember what I said the other day – the game-makers don’t actually intend to allow both members of an allied pair to leave the arena alive.’ He looked towards Luisa. ‘They’ll arrange an “accident”, or even just straight up force you guys to kill each other.’

Luisa nodded, though her expression saddened. She’d suspected this herself, though it was something else to hear someone with considerable knowledge of the Games say it. She remained silent, allowing Haymitch to continue.

‘So we’re going to have to do something to make the audience want dual Victors – make them clamour for it. Rogelio and I –’ He gestured to the other man, who was standing somewhat uncomfortably, ‘- have had an idea. We’re going to present you as the Star-Crossed Lovers of Districts One and Twelve. If you allow us to, of course.’ He stopped talking, allowing the news to sink in.

For once, the emotion on Rose’s face was entirely unguarded – Haymitch supposed that the suggestion had taken her so much by surprise that she was unable to muster up any of the defences she usually employed to control her emotions. He watched with equal parts amusement and wariness as her expressions shifted from one of curiosity to utter shock to pure, unbridled rage.

‘What.’ She responded, voice low and dangerous, ‘Do. You. Mean?’

Haymitch looked her in the eye. ‘I meant exactly what I said. Friendship alone won’t be enough to move the audience, not to the degree needed to get both of you out alive. Tributes are friends with each other every year, and it doesn’t change anything. You need to be _more_ than that.’

‘But we’re NOT more.’ _Much as she might have wanted them to be, in another world._ But it was too late now – in a matter of days, she would be entering the Games, and Luisa would be in there with her. She could afford to take the other woman as an ally – would need to, in order to get adequate camera time – but anything else would be… a _distraction_. Something she would be wholly unprepared to deal with.

‘Then _pretend_.’ Replied Haymitch caustically, reaching the end of his tether. ‘This is what will get you out _alive_ , sweetheart. Maybe even both of you.’

Rose remained unmoved by Haymitch’s argument, and was preparing to bite back a retort when a small, tentative voice from beside her said, ‘But we could, you know. Be more. In another life.’

Luisa herself seemed surprised that she’d intervened in the argument – but to her, Haymitch’s words made sense. She’d grown up around Capitol citizens, saw how they fawned over the latest it-couple. The more obstacles a relationship had, the more it was _meant to be_. And there was no obstacle greater than the Hunger Games. They wouldn’t be able to get enough of it.

Rose turned to her in surprise, anger at Haymitch temporarily put on ice. ‘What do you mean?’ She asked, a startled curiosity in her voice. She couldn’t possibly mean what Rose thought she meant, could she? That would be too much to process right now, when she was so rattled by Haymitch’s suggestion.

Luisa shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter. But I think Haymitch is right – I’ve grown up around these people, Rose, I know how they think. You’ve probably seen romance vids yourself.’

Rose had, actually. When she was a little girl, living a happy life in the bakery with her father, she’d loved watching whatever cheesy movie that was showing on the Capitol movie station. They’d often watch together, whenever he could take time away from the busy ovens. She’d loved seeing the first meeting, first kiss, first _I love you_ , followed swiftly by the inevitable happily ever after.

They’d stopped after her father had married Elena. She tried watching them herself, but it hadn’t been the same. She hadn’t had the time when she was living in the Seam – she’d been too preoccupied with learning to hunt, both to prepare for the Games and as a way of putting food on the table.

Besides, circumstances had taught her that there was no such thing as _happily ever after_ , anyway.

Luisa continued on. ‘They’ll go crazy for some kind of star-crossed love story. If they’ve been promised that both of their favourites have the possibility of survival, there’s no way they’ll let that go without a fight.’ She paused, taking a short breath, considering her next words carefully – she didn’t want to say anything that would screw up this possibility. Rose was her best chance for survival, but more than that, she genuinely liked the other woman. There was no-one else she could imagine doing this with. ‘I think we should do it. Be… star-crossed lovers, or whatever Haymitch is suggesting. We were thinking about allying together anyway, right? This would just be a couple more things we’d need to do. And if we both get out of it alive, we can go our separate ways, if that’s what you want.’ She added the last part tentatively, not entirely wanting it to be true.

Rose looked at Luisa consideringly, doing her best to see behind her haze of anger and listen to what the other woman was saying. It wasn’t all that differently phrased to Haymitch’s suggestion, but it still seemed… different somehow, coming from her. She hadn’t been planning on allying with _anyone_ in the arena – at least until the rule change was announced – but now that her hand had been forced, maybe the star-crossed lovers routine wouldn’t be the _worst_ thing in the world. It _would_ guarantee that they both get a lot of camera attention, perhaps even entice prospective sponsors.

She looked at Haymitch reproachfully, and said, ‘What exactly would all of this entail?’

Haymitch nodded, confident that the worst of the storm had passed, and continued speaking. ‘We’ll make some kind of formal announcement regarding the nature of your supposed relationship at the interview – that’ll be the hook, the thing that garners the initial audience interest. The way we frame it will be the most difficult thing – you’ll only have known each other for barely twelve days, so a declaration of undying love will fall pretty flat, even with the Capitol crowd. An expression of mutual interest, however, will be better received – present them with a _possibility_ , something they’ll be able to see unfold _organically_ –’ he mimed air quotes – ‘In the arena.’

He paused momentarily, giving his words time to sink in. Both girls seemed like they were processing everything well-enough, and even Rose was mercifully quiet. He decided that it would be best to say his piece before she took it upon herself to interrupt with more refutations. ‘But even that can’t come from nowhere. The audience needs to develop _some_ notion of how the relationship between the two of you began to emerge, which is where training will come in. You probably know that there are a lot of cameras in the training centre, so they’ll capture any interaction you have. Use that against them – make sure that when the announcement is made, the audience have something to look back on and say, “ _Yeah, that makes sense. I can see that_.”’ He said the last line in his best attempt at a Capitolite accent, which managed to draw a small smile from Luisa.

‘And what kind of things should we do to make them think that?’ Asked Luisa curiously.

Haymitch snorted. ‘Honestly sweetheart, just keep doing what you’ve already been doing and you’ll be fine.’

This was greeted with a blank look from both Rose and Luisa. Haymitch sighed with equal parts frustration and amusement. _They really have no idea, do they?_ ‘Look at each other _longingly_ , touch each other _lingeringly_ , give each other more _sexually charged combat lessons_ , whatever,’ he said, unable to keep the sarcastic edge from his voice.

‘But whatever you do,’ he said, voice growing suddenly more serious, ‘don’t do anything more advanced than that. We do still need to shock the audience with the news of your relationship, which’ll be pretty damn hard to do if you’re caught canoodling on camera.’

The two women pointedly avoided each other’s gaze, and Rose felt a blush creep its way across her cheek against her will. _Damn my complexion_ , she thought, with a hint frustration. She cleared her throat, and eyed Haymitch.

‘I’m in.’ Her words were simple and her voice hard as steel, carrying little emotional undertones. She turned to face Luisa, and her expression softened, revealing some nervousness. ‘Will you do this with me?’

Luisa smiled and placed a hand over Rose’s, squeezing it lightly. ‘Of course. There isn’t anyone I’d rather do this with.’

She turned to Haymitch and asked, calm and collectedly, ‘So, what’s our next move?’

* * *

 

Luisa returned to her room in the District One apartment feeling better than she had in days – her mood was such that she was able to shrug off the mocking statement Marvel threw her way, confident in the fact that she, at least, would have an ally in the arena that she genuinely liked and would hopefully be able to trust.

As much as she’d promised her family that she’d try to return to them, she hadn’t been confident in her ability to actually _do_ that, especially since she was determined to refuse alliance offers from other careers. Whatever strengths tributes from other districts had, fighting was generally not one of them. She’d resigned herself to being the sole combatant in whatever alliance she’d be able to form, and thus unlikely to last long.

Rose had taken her completely by surprise. Though they’d spent just the guts of an afternoon together, Luisa knew that there was no-one else she’d rather ally with. And this star-crossed lovers arrangement… _well, it shouldn’t be too difficult for me to fake_ , she mused. The memory of the seductive lilt to Rose’s voice as she whispered instructions in her ear, the feel of her hands as she guided Luisa’s into the correct position to use the bow – still caused warmth to spread across Luisa’s body.

Her musings were interrupted by a knock on the door. ‘Come in,’ said Luisa, the slightest of tremors in her voice.

Rogelio entered the room. He had changed out of his elaborate Capitol attire into something more comfortable, similar to the type of clothes he’d wear at home. He seemed more approachable like this, more like the man she’d grown up around.

‘Luisa? Today is the day that the families of District One tributes are being interviewed. I have spoken to Jane over the phone, they talked to her. They’re about to start, I thought you would like to see them.’

Luisa felt her heart simultaneously leap and constrict. On one hand, she’d _love_ to see Jane and the rest of her family again – she couldn’t be sure how much time she had left, even counting this alliance with Rose, so an opportunity to see their faces again should be something to cherish. Then again, it could also be a distraction – something that would leave her so morose that she wouldn’t be able to concentrate in training, wouldn’t be able to devote her attention to setting up the star-crossed lovers narrative with Rose.

She weighed up the options carefully in her mind, but eventually decided to go for it. This was her family, and she loved them. She’d take any chance she could get to see their faces, even if it was only through a Capitol-approved screen.

‘How’d Jane seem on the phone with you?’ Luisa asked as she accompanied Rogelio out of the room.

He hesitated. ‘She was… upset. She is very worried for you. But she is doing okay, carrying on with her normal routine.’

Luisa nodded. ‘That’s good to hear.’ She slid on to the couch in the main recreation area of the apartment, as far away as she could get from Marvel. The room was lavishly decorated, with the TV given prominence in the centre of the room.

The national anthem began blaring, and the screen was lit up. There were some cursory introductions, with Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith giving some basic commentary about the District and reminding viewers who the tributes were.

Marvel’s family was interviewed first. Both of his parents were large and muscular, looking very much like older versions of their son. They talked about how strong he was, his aptitude for weaponry, how they were sure he’d bring honour to his District and his family by returning as a Victor. Marvel watched this with his usual cocky grin, suggesting that he was happy with his parent’s words. Luisa thought it was a lot of pressure to put on someone.

Her attention waxed and waned throughout the rest of the interviews with Marvel’s friends and family – most of them re-iterated the same points, as if they were reading from some kind of dull script. The advertisements that interrupted the programming were more interesting – Luisa used their bright colours and catchy, obnoxious music to distract herself from the cocktail of nervousness and anticipation that was quickly rising within her.

Finally, after what seemed like an age, the camera cut towards the Marbella. The presenters gave a brief introduction to the building, explaining that this was where the districts’ female tribute grew up. They also mentioned that the hotel welcomed Capitol guests – which Luisa figured would probably be a good form of free advertising for her father if she ended up doing well. It was strange to see her home and think that she may never step foot there again - even if she ended up winning, she wouldn’t be permitted to live there, and would instead be required to take a house in Victor’s Village. She was sure that it would be a perfectly nice house, but it just wouldn’t be home.

And that was the best-case scenario. She didn’t want to think too long on the alternative, not when she was about to see her family.

They showed her father first. He looked much the same as ever, wearing the domineering persona that he normally adopted for dealing with the press, though Luisa could see dark circles under his eyes that had been inexpertly covered up with make-up. The interviewer asked him several questions about her strength and physical abilities, which he answered dutifully though without the same enthusiasm and confidence that Marvel’s family had.

When the questions were drawing to a gradual close, Emilio politely asked the interviewer whether he would be permitted to say a few words of his own. The other man was visibly surprised, but allowed it.

Her father stared directly into the camera, and said, ‘I would like my daughter to know that I am very proud of her. She has comported herself with grace, dignity and kindness thus far, and I am confident that she will continue to do so throughout the Games, however she may place. I know that, though her mother may no longer be with us, she would feel as I do.’ He smiled into the camera, more sincerely and genuinely than any of his other expressions had been, and Luisa knew that it was directed at her. He turned back to the interviewer and merely nodded, signalling that the interrogation was over.

Luisa felt tears well up in her eyes, though she fought to suppress them. Marvel was still present after all, and though she’d long since given up caring what he thought about her, she could do without giving him any additional ammunition. Her father’s words had meant a lot to her – he hadn’t bothered on needless praise that they both knew wasn’t necessarily true, and instead focused on something that mattered.

There was some commentary by Flickerman and Templesmith about how unusual his final words were, especially for the father of a Career tribute. Templesmith’s words in particular bordered on cruel, though Flickerman then made a point to say how nice a message it was. Luisa had little time to dwell on it, as barely a minute later Rafael was put on screen.

Her brother looked much the same as he had when she had left – it had only been a little over two days, though God knows it felt like longer – and he was dressed in some of his best clothes. The presenter made a point of cooing over how handsome he looked, in a tone of voice that made Luisa’s skin crawl.

Nevertheless, it was nice to see his face. Taking an apparent change in tactics than the one he had used with her father, he began asking Rafael questions about his relationship with his sister – did they get along, whether or not they argued much – that kind of thing. His answers were sweet and nice for her to hear, but she couldn’t help but wonder why the interviewer had decided to change tactics so drastically. This feeling was only compounded when on a number of occasions, Rafael tried to steer the conversation towards her skills or possible strengths in the arena, yet the other man continued to direct it back to personal details. Was he trying to turn her into some kind of weak counterpart to Marvel?

She wasn’t sure how well that’d fly – typical Career sponsors – the type that looked for raw physical power over anything else – may be turned off, but the sentimentalists they were trying to appeal to with the as-of-yet unannounced star-crossed lovers narrative would probably find this more appealing. It could end up working out in her favour. She decided not to let it get to her, and concentrate on enjoying seeing her family.

After Rafael, Jane was interviewed. Like Emilio, the younger girl also showed signs of being upset but it had once again been disguised with artful layers of make-up.

The interviewer pulled no punches, and dived straight in with a difficult question, ‘Luisa Alver volunteered for you. Can you tell me why she did that?’

Jane nodded and gave a polite smile to the camera. ‘I grew up in the Marbella – my mother works there, so we were around each other a lot. She’s like an older sister to me – she was always there for me when I needed her, and I guess that day at the Reaping was no exception.’

‘And what do you think of that decision? Wouldn’t you rather have a chance to prove yourself in the Games, rather than have a friend take all the glory?’

Jane levelled him with a glare. ‘No. I wouldn’t.’ She looked straight into the camera. ‘I think what she did for me was brave, and I’ll be forever grateful for it. If she’s given the chance, I think Luisa will be able to show the same bravery in the arena.’

Luisa smiled as she watched this, and the tears that she had been pushing down slowly trickled out, unable to be contained any longer. Marvel looked at her sneeringly, and seemed to be on the verge of saying something when Rogelio shot him a nasty look. He quietened after that, though Luisa couldn’t bring herself to care one way or another – though it had only been a short time since she had last seen her family, so much had happened since then that it felt like a lifetime.

They watched the rest of the interview in silence, Marvel apparently possessing enough good sense to stay in his own lane or risk pissing of his mentor and lifeline in the arena. At its conclusion, Luisa retreated back to her room, thinking about what she had just witnessed and the way that it made her feel.

She’d initially been so negative about her prospects for victory, so convinced that she wouldn’t stand a chance – but the alliance with Rose, and now this support from her family – it meant the world to her.

Maybe – just maybe – she’d be able to do it. Win the Games, return home to her family. With Rose by her side. She allowed herself to imagine it, and slid into a pleasant and dreamless sleep, a welcome reprieve from the worries of the past few days.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and Luisa throw themselves into the star-crossed lovers strategy, but get off to a somewhat shaky start. Individual evaluations yield unexpected results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Since I've never written action before, and often skim over it when I'm reading myself, I'd really appreciate your input in those scenes in particular.   
> -Rose's evaluation is very similar to Katniss's bc I re-read the chapter in preparation and their voices are SO SIMILAR.   
> -Luisa's evaluation and the little exchange between her and Haymitch is based off of a scene in fernwithy's amazing The End of the World, which I consider pretty much canon. You should all go read it, it's amazing.   
> -As always, I really appreciate all the comments I get, please consider leaving one so I can know your thoughts!!!

Over the six days allocated to tributes for further training, Rose and Luisa did their best to follow Haymitch’s instructions to the letter. Every morning, Rose would see to it that she met Luisa outside of the District One apartment so that they could walk into the training area together, with the intention of acclimatising the other tributes – as well as hidden cameras – to seeing them together. It appeared to be working, too – on the first day, their entrance had caused quite a stir, and every head snapped over to them, surprise etched on their features. It was unusual to see tributes from rival districts interacting with one another – a social rule of thumb that even the rule change had done little to dispel as of yet. As the days wore on, however, their joint entrances barely merited a second glance.

Other parts of Haymitch’s instructions, however, were at first harder to follow. His words about _lingering looks_ and _sexually charged combat lessons_ still reverberated around both girl’s minds, making them both more than a little self-conscious and prone to over-analysing every interaction that they had.

Rose, having spent much of her teenage years in relative solitude, was unused to this kind of dynamic. When the kids around her had been embarking on tentative first relationships, she had been much more preoccupied with hunting enough food to survive, not to mention preparation for the Hunger Games. There hadn’t been time, and she’d never been particularly interested. She fumbled over her own words, the easy confidence she’d possessed in their earlier interactions having dissipated. At one point, she had tried to inject a sultry and flirtatious tone into her voice, only to be told by a Luisa who was badly trying to contain a smile that it was coming off as “ _creepy_.”

For her own part, Luisa was painfully aware that she had more experience than the redhead in this area – though honestly, it wasn’t a _whole lot_ more – and thus was afraid of coming on too strong, of saying or doing something that would make the other woman uncomfortable. Therefore – contrary to Haymitch’s instruction – she’d tried to keep the touching while in the training booths to a minimum. A couple good shots for the cameras wasn’t worth Rose’s discomfort.

Unfortunately, Rose began to catch on to Luisa’s ploy after a few booths, and not knowing what was causing the other woman’s hesitance, began to grow both irritated and insecure.

‘Lu, I don’t know what your problem is, but knock it off.’ She cast a cursory look around her, and lowered her voice. Luckily, two tributes near them were having a noisy argument, which should provide enough interference for anyone listening in. ‘Stop holding back, you know what we’re meant to be doing.’

Luisa, also quietly, said, ‘I know that. But I just – I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything. I mean, we’ve not really known each other all that long and you were so hesitant to agree to all this on the roof last night and -’

Rose’s expression softened, almost despite herself. People rarely showed her such consideration – it was a nice feeling; one she could get used to. She sighed, her earlier frustration evaporating. ‘We aren’t very good at this, are we?’

Luisa shook her head. ‘I don’t think so, no. But –,’ she reached out, placing a consoling hand on Rose’s arm, ‘-we could be. With a little more practice, and a little more trust. We need to rely on each other, to go along with whatever scheme the other cooks up.’

Rose – who hadn’t trusted anyone in a very long time – said cautiously, ‘I think I could manage that.’

* * *

 

And get better they did. Their interactions over the next few days were still laced with a veneer of awkward fumbling, but with one key difference – they fumbled towards each other, rather than further away. As the six days of training progressed, so too did their relationship. Rose’s flirting skills improved – she was beginning to match Luisa innuendo for innuendo – and Luisa became more confident in her ability to casually touch Rose without fear of rejection or causing discomfort. They became used to laughing and flirting for the cameras – and provided them with more than enough material should the audience be in need of convincing – but also found that they genuinely enjoyed spending time together. As inexpert as their interactions on the first day had been, both women found that the more they needed to interact with each other, the less they needed to pretend.

Luisa had always been willing to share information about herself and her family and her background, but Rose had always remained suspiciously quiet. She’d listened to Luisa’s copious stories with interest and had asked plenty of questions, curious to know more details, but was reluctant to offer anything substantial about her own life. That had begun to change towards the end of training – she’d tell small anecdotes, exchange little titbits of information. It wasn’t much, really, but Luisa listened with avid interest, eager to learn as much as she could about the other woman. She recognised the trust that Rose was placing in her, and was honoured to be the recipient of it – she got the distinct impression that it was bestowed upon few.

Not _all_ their interactions were as deep and as heartfelt – Luisa in particular was a natural flirt, and – once she was sure that Rose was cool with it – had discovered that the other woman blushed _very_ easily. She was sure that it was a habit that probably drove the redhead insane, but it was something that Luisa delighted in evoking from her.

Rose, in turn, had taken their combat lessons to another level. If she’d flustered Luisa during their archery sessions, it was nothing compared to what would come later – despite her inexperience, she’d managed to make even the most innocuous activities dirty. She’d thrown herself into the act with gusto, taking every opportunity to guide Luisa’s hands into the correct position to handle a multitude of weapons, to whisper gentle instructions into her ear.

At the end of the sixth and final day of individual training, the training area was beginning to clear out as tributes returned to their apartments to ready themselves for evaluations. Rose and Luisa, however, decided to continue for a little longer and go directly to their assessment. It was generally forbidden for tributes to fight each other, but due to this year’s special circumstances instructors were willing to turn a blind eye in acknowledgement of the benefits of sparring to team building.

For that reason, both women were currently circling each other in a sparring booth, wooden staffs in hand. They were reasonably matched – Luisa had strength and muscle on her side, whereas Rose had a certain bloody determination.

The redhead moved first – several quick, successive hits. They were not as strong as she could have made them, serving more as a test of how the other woman would respond. Luisa did not disappoint – she used her experience and hit back strongly and decisively. Rose had known that Luisa was strong, but still seemed somewhat surprised. The other woman was usually so gentle, so unwilling to cause harm, but _damn_ – she could kick back when she wanted to.

Rose squared her shoulders, and launched a flurry of attacks. They were stronger than her previous, and targeted at perceived weak points along Luisa’s body. Luisa managed to effectively block, though it took more exertion than the initial blows.

She raised her staff in retaliation, ready to go on the offensive. Rose parried the move and caught the staff with the tip of her own. With some difficulty, she moved her hand to the bottom of the staff while maintaining her block. She swung it in the direction of Luisa’s legs, performing a graceful sweep.

Luisa, not anticipating this move, was knocked onto her back. Her staff fell from her hands. Rose stepped over her, a triumphant smirk on her face – it was very attractive, but Luisa had little time to think on it. She _wasn’t_ going to let the other woman win – the bragging would be _insufferable_. Luckily, she’d been in situations like this before, with far more experienced – though admittedly less driven – competitors, and had a fair idea of how to overcome it.

The stance Rose had chosen to adopt was weak. She’d thought that Luisa had already lost, and had relaxed her muscles accordingly, ready to revel in victory – but Luisa wasn’t finished yet. Quickly – quicker than Rose could have been able to anticipate – Luisa raised her legs and crashed them into Rose’s, performing a sweep that mirrored the one that had taken her out just a few short moments ago.

Rose stumbled, and fell – landing right on top of Luisa. Their limbs became entangled, though both women seemed reluctant to extricate themselves. They’d shared little touches throughout training, but nothing this… _full-bodied_. Rose raised her head, and stared into Luisa’s eyes. Luisa stared back. The air around them was so thick with tension that it felt like it could be cut with a knife.

Both women knew that they should stop, that they should pull away, that this wasn’t how it was meant to go down. Haymitch had _explicitly_ forbidden them from going any further than casual touching in order to keep the surprise fresh – but neither could have pulled away if they’d tried.

And they didn’t try – instead, their faces moved closer together as if in slow motion. Their lips were millimetres away from each other when –

‘Alver, Luisa. Please report to the Gamemakers to undergo your individual evaluation.’ The voice was cool and clinical, emanating from an intercom somewhere above them. Rose and Luisa pulled away from each other slowly, neither quite willing to leave the position they were currently in. Both were breathing heavily, and looked as if they’d very much like to continue, gamemakers be damned.

Eventually, Rose pulled away and stood up without her usual grace. She offered a hand to Luisa, who took it gratefully. They looked at each other for a few moments, neither saying anything. Both were reeling over what had almost happened – a kiss would have ruined everything, spoiled the performance that they’d spent the last few days cultivating – but that didn’t detract from the fact that in the moment, they’d wanted it to happen.

Rose cleared her throat, trying to clear those dangerous thoughts from her mind. ‘You should probably get going,’ she said, her voice still the slightest bit shaky, ‘I presume that the gamemakers aren’t people who like to be kept waiting.’

Luisa nodded, gradually breaking out of her reverie. ‘Yeah. I should – I should go.’

An awkward silence emerged between them, and for what was perhaps the first time in her life, Rose felt the need to fill it with chatter. ‘Remember to show them what you’re good at – this isn’t the time to hold back. You’re strong, and you’ve got a good sword arm – show them that.’

Luisa smiled in thanks, then turned to leave. When she’d almost disappeared from view, Rose called out, ‘Luisa!’

Luisa turned, a questioning expression on her face. Rose smiled at her – a bright, genuine smile – and said, complete with a cheeky wink, ‘May the odds be ever in your favour.’

* * *

 

There were twelve gamemakers in all, each seated along a long white table. Food was positioned at several points along the table, and each gamemaker had generous portions on their own plates. Wine was being served, also – though the night was still early, and their attention was focused moreso on the tribute than the alcohol.

Seneca Crane – head gamemaker, the man ostensibly in charge of the Hunger Games – sat in the centre. He was a tall, thin man, with a tightly-cut beard styled in such a way that the stubble resembled a dark-coloured flame. Luisa remembered seeing him in the hotel once – it was unusual for them to receive a guest that was quite so high-profile, and the staff had been driven to a frenzy of excitement, making sure that all the rooms were in peak condition. She hadn’t been tasked with entertaining him herself – that dubious honour had belonged to her father – but they had been introduced when he first made his appearance. She wondered idly if he remembered it.

He nodded his head in greeting, and said, ‘Welcome to your individual evaluation. You may begin whenever you are ready.’

Luisa raised her voice and spoke with a confidence and surety that she did not truly possess, and said, ‘I would like to request the presence of the knife-station attendants to assist me.’

‘As is your right.’ He pressed some buttons under the table, which opened a door through which four burly men emerged. They were dressed in a kind of strong, protective body armour – it was rigged with a kind of technology that would allow Luisa to hit them as hard as she wished with whatever kind of weapon she wished without causing serious damage. It would record the hits she made, allowing the gamemakers to assess her abilities.

Luisa grabbed several knives from the training stand and secured them on her person, keeping one in each hand. She motioned for the men to begin the assault.

They did not disappoint, and ran towards her with their own weapons drawn. Luisa did not waste any time – she remembered the things that Rose had taught her. She raised her first dagger, and took careful aim. It embedded itself in the stomach of her first assailant. His armour flashed red, indicating a hit that would have removed him from the fight had it been real. There was no time to appreciate her victory, as the other three were upon her.

This was the type of combat she was made for. As she dodged the first punch, she removed a second knife from her belt and drove it into the chest of her attacker. Like the first, his armour registered a lethal hit.

Two down, two to go.

These seemed more intelligent than the last, and appeared to be working together to take her down. Their attacks were co-ordinated, and a lot harder to shake off. Luisa ended up taking a few hits – one punch to the stomach that was hurting like a motherfucker, and another more serious one to the leg. The latter was likely intended to impinge her mobility, but she would not let it – not for the second time today.

After several minutes of useless back-and-forth, Luisa saw an opening. The two men moved to hit her at the same time, coming from opposite directions. All she needed to do was step back and . . . yes! They knocked into each other, staggering backwards. It gave the opportunity she needed to swiftly stab them with her remaining knives. Their suits registered the lethal hits.

Luisa looked up towards the panel of gamemakers expectantly. Each were staring back with some degree of interest in their eyes – she had impressed them. It wasn’t every day that they saw a girl of her height take down four armoured, fully trained men. Seneca Crane raised his hand in dismissal. ‘Thank you,’ he said calmly, ‘You may go.’

* * *

 

Rose had been sat in the waiting room for hours, her anticipation gradually rising. She’d seen almost every tribute be taken for their evaluation and emerge the other side of it – some appeared cocky, confident that they’d earned a high score. Others looked like they were holding back tears.

Luisa, as a tribute from District One, had been one of the first taken. Rose had sat in something akin to trepidation while waiting for her to come out. _She’s my ally_ , she told herself, _If she does well, then I do well. Simple as._ But it wasn’t that simple – not really. She wanted Luisa to do well, to succeed because she knew the confidence boost that it would give her. And yes, that confidence would help her in the arena, but it wasn’t the reason she wanted her to have it.

The reason was something that she wasn’t quite yet ready to admit to.

Luisa came out of the evaluation room smiling, and Rose’s heart soared, a matching grin breaking out on her own face. The brunette met Rose’s eyes and shot her a thumbs up before being promptly escorted out of the room.

That had been hours ago, and the brief contentment that it had caused to well up inside Rose had long since dried out. She’d seen more than twenty tributes taken in for their evaluations and emerge in various emotional states, and was at this point _bored_. A bored Rose wasn’t particularly pleasant for anyone to be around.

_Finally,_ the voice on the intercom that had begun to severely irritate her announced, ‘Ruvelle, Rose. Please report to the gamemakers to undergo your individual evaluation.’ She left her seat gracefully, not wanting to appear too eager, though in reality she was _dying_ to get it over and done with.

The room was set up very similarly to the one used for training – the same kind of weapons were displayed alongside the same kind of targets. Rose’s eyes were immediately drawn to the bow, positioned in the centre of the room like some kind of omen. She’d stuck by her promise to Haymitch and hadn’t gone near it in training, outside of the lessons she’d given to Luisa. She was itching to get her hands on it now, to show the true extent of her talents.

The one key difference between this room and the one used for training was, of course, the presence of the gamemakers. They were seated far above the tributes, and Rose knew as soon as she saw them that she was in trouble. Few gave her even a cursory glance as she entered the room, and those who did quickly refocused their attention on the food in front of them. Some were talking loudly, even slurring their words. It seemed as if they had been very much enjoying the wine that was served by the carafe.

Rose loudly cleared her throat, trying to gain the attention of the feasting gamemakers. Seneca Crane gave her permission to begin with a lazy, dismissive wave of his hand. Rose felt irritation rise up inside of her, but pushed it down – she had a job to do, and she needed to make sure that she did it well. Some gamemakers looked at her curiously as she grabbed the bow – it was not a commonly used weapon, after all, as it took a considerable deal of skill to wield. It was not something that a tribute could easily pick up in the normal three day training period. _Good_ , thought Rose, _I can use that_.

She knew as soon as she strung an arrow into the bow that she was in trouble – the weight was all wrong, and the bow was made of considerably different materials to her one at home. She’d have to be careful. She took aim, taking far longer than she normally would, and . . . released. The arrow missed the centre of the practice dummy by several centimetres. Rose swore, and tried again, this time attempting some exercises to accustom her fingers to the unfamiliar string and familiarising herself with the weight of the bow.

She fired another shot, hitting the dummy in the dead centre, directly in the place the heart would have been had it been a real person. She fired off three shots in quick succession, each at a target more impressive than the last. She turned to the gamemakers, a triumphant smile on her face, only to discover that none were paying her even the slightest bit of attention. Most were staring avidly at a roast pig that was being brought out by two servers, a juicy red apple positioned in its mouth.

They had dismissed her as soon as she had fumbled the first shot.

Rose saw red, and her entire being was consumed with anger. She’d spent the past several years being dismissed, overlooked and forgotten about by almost everyone she knew. The Games was her chance to rise above that – yes, Haymitch’s perspective had changed some of her own thoughts on them, but at the end of the day they still presented her with the opportunity to rise above and beyond the life she’d known before. She **would not** be upstaged by a pig.

Almost without thinking, she strung an arrow and fired it in the direction of the gamemakers. It struck the apple that had been in the pig’s mouth, dislodging it and launching it into the nearby wall. It was a _good_ shot – the gamemakers had been far away from her and the apple a tiny target. However, the gamemakers did not look like they appreciated it. Most wore a look of shock so acute that their faces appeared frozen – one man who had been eating something when the arrow had been discharged must have choked on his food as he was currently making retching noises and turning slightly purple.

Rose didn’t care. She threw the bow aside and bowed condescendingly. ‘Thank you for your consideration,’ she said in a voice that was half-spit, half-sarcastic purr, before turning on her heels and leaving the room.

* * *

 

When Rose reached the District Twelve apartment, all the way at the top of the training centre, her rage had receded into worry. Shooting an arrow at the gamemakers was potentially. . . _not_ the greatest idea she’d ever had. It was hard for her to remember sometimes that despite her skill, she would never be the most powerful person in the room – not in the Capitol, and certainly not in the arena. The gamemakers would _always_ have the final say, and she may have just screwed it up for herself.

She was surprised to find Luisa and Rogelio sitting in the recreation area along with Haymitch and Effie when she entered the apartment. ‘What’s everyone doing here?’ She asked, cautiously but not altogether unfriendlily

‘Since you’re both confirmed allies, we got permission for you guys to watch the evaluation results together. Speaking of, how’d yours go? What did you do?’ Asked Haymitch, with a warning note in his voice, telling her not to question the decision.

‘Uh, yeah. . . about that,’ she said, a grimace in her voice as well as on her face. ‘I kind of . . . shot an arrow at the gamemakers.’

‘You WHAT?!’ Exploded Effie.

Haymitch looked at her imploringly, begging further explanation. Luisa seemed alarmed, with concern written all over her face, and waited for her to continue.

Rose sighed. ‘It wasn’t exactly at them, moreso in their general direction. It hit an apple in that fucking roast pig that they thought was more worthy of their attention that me.’

Haymitch thought over her words, then smirked. ‘Nice shooting, sweetheart.’ Effie still looked scandalised, but there was a slow smile spreading across Luisa’s face.

Rose decided to latch on to the latter fact, and chalk it up as a victory. She turned to the other woman, and said, ‘So how’d yours go? You seemed pretty happy when you came out.’

Luisa nodded. ‘Yeah, it went pretty well. I had a few of the attendants run at me while I fought them off with some knives.’ She looked to Rose. ‘I threw one, got him in the stomach. Your lessons really helped.’

‘That’s my girl,’ replied Rose, fondness shining through her expression.

Haymitch looked at her thoughtfully. ‘You did? Huh.’ There was a strange note in his voice. Luisa inclined her head curiously, and he elaborated. ‘It’s nothing. I just did that for my evaluation too.’ He shook his head. ‘Look, it doesn’t matter. The eval is about to start, let’s take our places.’

Rose did as Haymitch suggested, sitting down next to Luisa. She looked around – there was someone missing. ‘Where’s Daniel?’

Effie answered her. ‘He decided to watch with his ally.’ A dark look crossed Haymitch’s face then, but he did not make any comment.

The screen flared to life, and began playing the national anthem. Claudius Templesmith and Caesar Flickerman bade everyone welcome, and gave a short introduction. Rose felt herself growing restless, eager to get on with the scoring.

‘As usual,’ intoned Caesar, ‘We will start off tonight with announcing the results from the tributes of District One. Remember, folks, that individual scores will be combined with the results of team evaluations to produce an overall score per tribute. With that in mind, let us begin. MARVEL, of District One, earns a score of nine.’

‘Bastard,’ murmured Luisa.

Rose squeezed her hand reassuringly. ‘Want me to kill him for you?’

Luisa laughed. ‘That’s very sweet of you to offer, but I’ll decline. For now.’ She turned back to the screen, just in time to hear her own result being called out.

‘LUISA, of District One, also earns a score of nine.’

Luisa’s heart leapt – this was better than she could have hoped for! A nine was a respectable score by anyone’s standards, better than most tributes would receive. And it was the same as Marvel’s! She laughed loudly, joyously. _Ha! He’s lost whatever bragging rights he may have had._

Haymitch and Effie congratulated her enthusiastically, while Rogelio looked at her with pride shining in his eyes. He’d known that she could do it, this was just an affirmation. Luisa welcomed this praise happily, but it was Rose’s reaction that she looked for.

And she was not disappointed. Rose smiled at her – her expression softer than it could be with anyone else – and said, with pride in her voice, ‘Well done. I knew you could do it.’

Luisa beamed. ‘You helped more than a bit, you know.’ An idea struck Luisa then, and without giving it a second thought, she dove forward, wrapping her arms around the other woman in a tight embrace. Rose froze for a second, unsure of what to do. Luisa’s body was warm and soft against her own, and she could feel the happiness and gratitude positively oozing out of her. Slowly and uncertainly, Rose raised her own arms, wrapping them around the other woman in turn.

It had been a long time since she had been hugged. Madge had been the last, if she was remembering correctly. She’d been trying to comfort Rose after the death of her father, and Rose had gratefully melted into the embrace then. But that had been years ago, and fuelled by a cocktail of negative emotions. This was different – it felt . . . nice.

Haymitch cleared his throat, a knowing smirk on his face. He pointed to the TV, where other scores were being announced. The girls pulled away from each other, red creeping onto both of their cheeks. They had no excuse for this contact – there were no overt cameras in the room, nothing to show off for.

They returned to the screen, pointedly avoiding each other’s gaze. They had missed several results, though there was a panel on the side of the screen filling viewers in. Rose winced when she saw that Cato and Clove had managed to score ten apiece, but was hardly surprising. They’d always been the ones to watch out for. The tributes from District Three scored averagely, though Rose noticed with interest that the kids from District Four received lower marks than was usual for a Career District – 7 and 8 respectively. They weren’t bad scores – for anyone else, they’d be excellent – but like Luisa and the other Career tributes, they’d likely received training all their lives. It was surprising.

Her mind wandered as other results were announced – there was nothing particularly striking – but came back into focus when Caesar reached District Eleven. Thresh, the large, powerful-looking boy, managed to pull a score of 10 – equal to that of Cato and Clove. That was almost _unheard_ of, and Rose reeled back in surprise. She glanced over at Haymitch, who also looked shocked, though she could see wheels begin to turn in his mind, considering all possibilities.

Little Rue – the twelve-year-old that Luisa talked to once or twice in training – perhaps even more surprisingly managed to pull a 7. Rose wondered what she could have done to sway the judges so – whatever it had been had been clearly impressive. She made a mental note to stop judging other tributes based off size and appearance –it was, after all, possible for it to be a ruse. She remembered that a couple of years ago, a girl had won the Games by pretending to be weak and then sneaking up on tributes unawares – Petra, her name had been, or so Rose thought. It was an interesting strategy, but not one she thought she’d be able to pull off convincingly.

Finally, Caesar reached District Twelve. Daniel, who was not currently there but nevertheless Haymitch’s responsibility, pulled a mere 5. Haymitch and Effie shared a look, and sighed. It was a familiar tune, one they’d heard almost every year that they’d been working together.

‘And finally, a score I’m sure many of you have been waiting for – ROSE, our Girl on Fire, earns a score of eleven.’

An excited whoop pervaded the room, emanating from multiple sources – eleven was the best score of this Games, and one seldom earned in _any_ year. Haymitch clapped her on the back, while Effie offered an excitable congratulations. Luisa beamed at her, and this time it was Rose that initiated the hug.

It was Effie that broke them apart this time, muttering something about etiquette and propriety. There was less lingering awkwardness this time, both too jubilant to particularly care about it.

Haymitch walked over to the dining table, and returned with a bottle of champagne and several glasses clutched in his hands.

‘I think a little celebration is in order, don’t you?’


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and Luisa do team-training exercises, which proves somewhat . . . frustrating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is lighter than most other chapters, I hope you enjoy!  
> And please consider leaving a comment if you liked :)

On the seventh day, Rose and Luisa walked into the training room unsure of what to expect. This was virgin territory – nothing of its kind had ever happened before. After evaluations, tributes were interviewed and sent to the arena with nary a second to catch their breath. This _time_ – time to train, time to prepare themselves, time to form alliances – was unprecedented. Haymitch had been able to give them very little idea of what to expect, because he had no clue himself – it frustrated him, he who set so much stock in planning and figuring out what the opposition would do before they had a chance to know themselves.

What they found in the room was . . . a surprise, to say the least. Gone were the weapon stands, the survival stations, the precisely placed targets. Instead they were replaced with an eclectic mix of . . . only the Gamemakers knew what.

Seneca Crane stood in the centre of the room, hands held behind his back in a gesture of patience. He waited for the other tributes to trickle into the room – all of whom looked as confused as Rose and Luisa when they saw the new layout – before beginning his speech.

‘Welcome, tributes, to these very special Games. I do not wish to take up too much of your time – I’m sure you’re all eager to get going – but I thought a little explanation is in order. We gamemakers are aware that some tributes have already formed alliances,’ he spared a glance at Rose and Luisa, as well as a few others, ‘though others have not. As you know, cross-District alliances are mandatory this year and this part of the training period is designed to facilitate the process of finding an ally, or cementing the relationships that are already in place.’ He flourished his hands, gesturing to the newly-installed booths around him. ‘These exercises have been developed in order to foster teamwork skills between allied pairs – you’ll find that some of these will become instrumental to you in the arena, and could mean the difference between life and death. On day eleven, each allied pair will be given the same task to complete together and will be ranked according to their performance. This ranking will be combined with the scores from individual evaluations to produce an overall result.’ He smiled broadly, like an amused cat staring down at a colony of mice. ‘I will leave you to enjoy the activities. May the odds be ever in your favour.’

Rose and Luisa looked at each other, then at the odd collection of activities scattered around. Neither of them knew where to start – just by looking at them, some of the exercises seemed downright ridiculous, nothing at all like the activities that had been occupying them over the past couple of days.

Luisa shrugged, and grabbed Rose’s hand. ‘C’mon,’ she said, ‘We might as well get started.’

* * *

 

‘I’m not doing that,’ said Rose, with her arms crossed and a scowl across her face. ‘It’s stupid.’

‘And why is that?’ responded Luisa, an amused smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

‘I _already_ trust you, why do I need to prove it by doing _this_?’ She gestured towards the piece of paper pinned to the wall.

Said piece of paper had laid out the offending instructions – in order to demonstrate trust between paired allies, Person A is required to fall backwards, trusting that Person B would catch them. Allies were to alternate roles, allowing each person an opportunity to try both responsibilities.

Needless to say, Rose was unhappy with the thought of this.  Her petulance was amusing to Luisa, who was desperately trying and mostly failing to contain her smile. ‘You never know, we might have to do something similar to this in the evaluations. It could help us out.’ Rose looked at her sceptically, and Luisa decided to try another approach. ‘Look, I’ll do the falling part first. That way, you can see that there’s nothing to be afraid of.’

‘I’m not _afraid_ ,’ she muttered, though Luisa could see that she was getting through to her. Rose sighed loudly and dramatically. ‘Fine. But you’re going first.’

‘Of course, _darling_ ,’ said Luisa sarcastically, still trying to hold in her smile in order to placate the other woman.

Rose and Luisa assumed the positions indicated on the paper – Luisa stood on the stool that had been placed in the centre of the booth, the only real prop in that particular section. She closed her eyes and took a shaky breath, crossing her arms over her shoulders.

‘Are you ready?’ She asked the redhead.

Rose nodded, before remembering that the other woman couldn’t actually see her. ‘Yes. Go for it.’

It took Luisa a few moments – she had reason enough to be wary of other people, to not fully give her trust to them – but ultimately, leaned back, allowing herself to fall.

She gave herself to it completely, never stumbling and putting her foot down. After what could have only been a little over a second – though it felt like longer – Luisa’s fall was broken by Rose’s strong arms. She opened her eyes, and stared up at Rose’s beautiful face. _Wow_ , she thought from her position below her, _this is a really good angle for her_. _Though_ , she amended, _does this woman have a bad angle? I’ve never seen_ _it._

Luisa smiled. ‘Hi.’

Rose smiled, somewhat awkwardly, and said in return, ‘Hey.’ She cleared her throat and blushed faintly, releasing the other woman.

Luisa, recovering from her momentary daze, looked at Rose with no small measure of glee in her expression, ‘Your turn.’

Rose’s face immediately lost the softness that catching Luisa had brought out, slipping once again into a childish half-pout. ‘Do I have to?’ She whined.

Luisa, unable to contain it any longer, let out a laugh. ‘Yeah, you do.’ She gestured towards the stool that she had fallen from moments previously, ‘Up you go.’

Rose huffed, but did as Luisa suggested. ‘Don’t you dare drop me,’ she said, the threat in her voice only half exaggerated. Luisa’s smile only widened.

The redhead closed her eyes, crossing her arms over her shoulders in a mimicry of the position that Luisa had been in. She took a deep breath, trying to gear herself up enough to do it. _This is so stupid_ , she thought, _why can’t I do it?_

It had been a long time since Rose had been able to rely on anyone but herself – there’d been no-one to help her in the woods; it was either learn the skills she needed to save herself or die in the attempt. She’d learned to like it that way, liked the independence of saving herself. _Fuck it_. She tilted herself back, allowing herself to fall.

Instead of falling into Luisa’s arms as she knew she was meant to do, her body reacted on instinct. She slammed her foot onto the ground, preventing herself from falling any further.

She stood up, red burning her cheeks. ‘Damn it,’ she hissed.

Luisa, who had been about to laugh, sobered up when she saw the expression on Rose’s face. The brunette didn’t like losing and couldn’t abide failure – she could get pretty fierce when it came to board games, which she’d play regularly with Jane and her brother – but at the end of the day, she was able to get over it. A quick glance at Rose, however, showed her that she was not the same – failure, for her, carried consequences, often dire ones.

She softened her voice. ‘Hey, it’s okay. We can try again.’

‘I don’t want to,’ said Rose, the childishness that had been there before absent from her voice. She truly meant it, this time.

‘I know. But we do need to do this. It will be important to trust each other in the arena. C’mon,’ she punched her arm lightly, ‘We won’t let this beat you. You’re going to kick its ass, it’ll just take some time, that’s all. Let’s go again.’

* * *

 

It _did_ take them some time – almost half their day – but in the end, they managed it. Rose had almost given up whatever fragile hope she’d initially had, her usual drive strangely lacking, and Luisa had taken to resorting to desperate measures in order to coax some motivation out of the other woman.

In the end, it turned out that the only motivation Rose had needed to complete this godforsaken exercise was the promise of not having to repeat it. Luisa, her frustration beginning to rise despite the admirable patience she’d been showing, had reluctantly promised that they could stop if Rose gave it one more attempt. She’d been ready to write the whole thing off as a failure and move on to the next activity, but then Rose had surprised her by practically launching herself off the stool. Used to the other woman’s tendency to break her own fall, Luisa barely had time to extend her arms before Rose was falling into them.

Air heavy with disbelief on both sides, it took both women a moment for the news to sink in - she’d done it! She’d finally done it!

Rose chose not to linger in Luisa’s arms as the other woman had done with her, instead leaping from them almost immediately with an enormous smile on her face. She whooped victoriously, fist-pumping the air for emphasis. After _hours_ , Luisa understood the impulse and even did a little victory jig herself, glad to _finally_ be finished with the exercise. But it was also more than that – she was happy that Rose had managed to do something so obviously out of her comfort zone.

Other tributes looked at them curiously, but refrained from commenting. A lot of them were having similar troubles, and not all had managed to overcome them. Through the screen that allowed him to keep an eye on his tributes, Haymitch rolled his eyes but smiled fondly. _Idiots,_ he muttered under his breath.

* * *

 

‘So I don’t want to be too negative after that last debacle, but this kind of looks like a recipe for disaster,’ said Rose, though there was none of the childish whining that had been present in her earlier voice. She seemed more laid back, her mini-victory having given her a sense of joviality that Luisa prayed would last, because she silently agreed with the other woman. This _did_ look like a disaster waiting to happen.

She’d chosen this booth precisely because it contrasted so utterly with the last one – instead of the wide, empty space populated by only a stool that they were to fall off, this was almost packed to the brim with obstacles. The aim, according to a piece of paper that was once again pinned to the wall of the booth, was for Person A to traverse the course while wearing a blindfold, relying entirely on Person B for guidance. Luisa had done something similar on a number of occasions in her phys-ed class at school, but had never particularly enjoyed it. There was never anyone she liked or trusted well enough to go with, and normally ended up with whoever the teacher assigned. That person had often not listened to her instructions, and she’d never been particularly assertive enough to reinforce them. She’d clicked with a group of friends later on, but by that time the classes had become more Games-oriented.

Knowing how they’d gotten on with the last one, Luisa wasn’t entirely optimistic. She sighed and took a deep breath, knowing what she ought to do. ‘I’ll go first on the obstacles, shall I?’

Rose shot her a grateful look, and handed her the blindfold that had been attached to the wall next to the instructions.

Luisa took it and put it on, unable to resist making a comment. ‘You seem eager to get me into this blindfold.’ She hummed, feigning innocence. ‘I wonder what other situations it’d be useful in.’

She was regrettably unable to see the red that she was sure was colouring Rose’s face right about now, but she took satisfaction enough from the spluttering sounds she could hear coming from the other woman’s mouth.

Payment enough for what was sure to be a trying couple of hours.

‘Okay,’ Luisa said, after she’d finished fully adjusting the blindfold, ‘Start directing me.’

It didn’t go _too_ badly, all things considered. Rose was good at giving orders, and Luisa at following them. They worked well together, when the positions were as they were, and Luisa managed to complete the obstacle course with relatively few injuries. She did fall off the balancing beam once, but you know – that happens. She’d chalk it up as a win.

Problems came, as they did last time, when the roles were reversed. Fall/catch exercises required comparatively little trust when compared to walking over potentially dangerous obstacles blindfolded, as it turns out, and it had taken Rose hours to manage even that.

Luisa sighed with frustration after repeating herself for what felt like the _hundredth_ time. She gave her instructions – maybe not as assertively as she could have – but they’d been _clear_. Problem was, Rose just wasn’t following them, certain that when she reached a certain point that her own approach was the best one, nevermind that Luisa was the one who could actually _see_. It was maddening, and she was reaching the end of her considerable patience. It didn’t help that after every couple of attempts, the obstacles would re-shuffle themselves, negating any possibility of cheating by memorising the course.

‘Just step forward about two inches. Two – careful!’ She said, irritation leaking into her tone as Rose once again stepped too close to the edge. Mercifully, she seemed to heed Luisa’s words this time, pulling back right before she reached the edge. That was good – this was the part that they stumbled on most. ‘Now raise your left hand up and forward slightly – you may need to stand on your toes, they’re pretty high.’ Rose did as suggested – there was a moment where Luisa thought that she might fall, but she seemed to balance herself well enough – and grabbed onto the monkey bar above her. ‘Good,’ said Luisa, trying to exert as much enthusiasm into her voice as possible, ‘Now do the same with your other hand. When you’re ready, raise yourself onto the bar.’

Rose pulled herself up, muscles in her arms flexing as she did so. The first time that she had done that – as well as several times afterwards – Luisa had taken a few moments to admire them. They were certainly very . . . admirable. The distraction _just might have_ contributed the failure of those attempts. _Maybe_. But now, dozens of times later, the effect had worn off and Luisa wanted her to succeed so they could get out of there.

‘There are exactly ten bars for you to get across, and you’ll need to do them quickly. Use the adrenaline - you’ll fall otherwise. They’re all evenly spaced. At the end is a platform similar to the one you were just on – fling yourself towards in when you get to the last one. I’ll tell you when that is.’

Luisa watched with bated breath as Rose made her way across the bars – usually, she’d go too slowly and stumble around bar five, but this time, she seemed to be taking Luisa’s instructions on board. _C’mon, c’mon, you can do it_ , she muttered under her breath.

Shockingly, she _did_ do it. ‘You’re at the last one,’ said Luisa, with some surprise in her voice, ‘throw yourself forward, and you should be able to make the jump. It’s not a large gap.’

Rose – either on instinct or because she’d realised that her ally was right – followed Luisa’s instructions and landed on the platform. The expression on her face was almost comical – her eyes widened in surprise, before a triumphant grin spread across her face. Luisa knew the feeling.

The redhead threw her hands up in celebration, glad to _finally_ be clear of the obstacle – and Luisa knew what would happen micro-seconds before it did.

The force of her celebration caused her body to move backwards on instinct in an attempt to rebalance herself. Problem was – there _was_ no surface behind for her to land on. She stumbled, losing her footing and tumbling off the obstacle that had taken her so long to master.

Luisa put her head in her hands and sighed, trying to calm herself down. _Inala, Exhala_ , she thought desperately, conjuring up her normal mental image of Rogelio. _Inhala, Exhala_.

There was a certain irony to the situation that she could appreciate – a few short days ago, she’d been frantically repeating that phrase in order to sooth her fears over what she thought was her imminent death in the arena, yet here she was now doing it because people were annoying her. It was almost like things were back to normal – like she was back in the gym at District One, frustrated that whatever partner the teacher picked for her wasn’t listening to her instructions.

Rose had played a big part in providing that sense of normalisation, she conceded somewhat reluctantly. Whenever she felt overwhelmed or afraid about the fate that was awaiting her, Rose – despite her apparent lack of people skills with everyone but Luisa – managed to say or do something that would make her feel better. Sometimes it was something _infuriating_ \-  a cocky remark, an overconfident challenge – but it always worked to distract her, to give her something else to concentrate on. She was becoming a better tribute because of it.

Rose got up from her position on the floor with a graceless huff, and scowled. It was sort of adorable. Luisa cracked a smile, and looked at the redhead fondly. ‘Thank you,’ she said, her voice gentle.

‘What for?’ Rose asked, still a little dazed from the fall.

‘Just being you.’ This was met with a blank, confused look. Luisa shrugged, and decided to take pity on the other woman. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said, indicating towards the obstacle course. ‘We’ve still got a couple of days to figure it out. Besides, you’ve done it once, you’ll be able to do it again.’

She offered Rose her hand, which the other woman hesitantly took. ‘Let’s go get dinner.’

* * *

 

It took just about every minute that was allocated to them for team training, but Rose and Luisa gradually made their way through every exercise in the training facility. They became better at them, together – Rose slowly learned to trust Luisa more, to listen to her instruction, to learn that she didn’t need to do everything by herself – whereas Luisa became more assertive, more vocal and confident and better able to communicate her suggestions. They may have wanted to strangle each other at various points throughout the whole process, but by the end of it both were willing to admit that it had benefitted them.  

Those were the thoughts running through both of their minds as they waited in the chamber outside of the evaluation room. Rose couldn’t help but remember the state she’d been in the last time she’d been here, just a few short days ago – she’d been snappy and irritable, which was what Haymitch and _maybe_ a _few_ others would call her default state – but she felt a lot better now, calmer. Luisa’s influence, probably. Rose would grudgingly admit that the other woman seemed remarkably good at cooling her down, at diffusing her temper before it had a chance to become a problem.

That wasn’t to say that she didn’t feel any anticipation – far from it. They had no real idea of what they’d be facing in the evaluation, and the only thing that they knew for sure was that the mark that they’d receive would greatly affect their overall rankings. No pressure, then.

With Rose being from District Twelve and Luisa being from One, they were assigned an assessment slot somewhere in the middle. It was a decent position – not the best, but not the worst either. It occurred early enough in the period that the Gamemakers would hopefully not be too drunk and therefore more attentive than they had been in Rose’s initial evaluation.

All tributes in the chamber anxiously looked upwards as the intercom buzzed, indicating that a new evaluation was about to begin. The voice that emanated from it was automated, and felt oddly cold. ‘The following tributes are to report to the gamemakers for their team evaluations: RUVELLE, ROSE, and ALVER, LUISA.’

The two girls looked into each other’s eyes, as if giving one last bout of reassurance. Rose nodded, while Luisa smiled and said, ‘We’ve got this.’

* * *

 

As with before, the gamemakers were situated on a platform well above the tributes. However, although there was a feast laid out in front of them and carafes of wine at strategic locations along the table, all of them seemed remarkably sober. There was no boisterous chatter, no high-pitched laughter, no flushed faces. Instead, they stared at Rose and Luisa as they entered the room, faces all business. Rose noticed with some amusement that the man who had choked after she’d shot her arrow was still there, though he looked far from impressed.

It appeared that they remembered her, then. Good.

Seneca Crane stepped forward and cleared his throat – there was no real need for him to, as the table was already silent, but it seemed to be a force of habit. He nodded to Rose and Luisa, though there was no nicety in the gesture. ‘Welcome, ladies. The task before you is simple. All that is required of you is to choose a weapon each, and then step into the room directly underneath this platform. You will be approached by a number of computer-generated assailants, which you will both repel, ensuring that you protect your ally in the process. You will be evaluated at the end on both your combat skills and the way in which you work as a team. You may begin whenever you are ready.’

Crane gestured to the row of weapons positioned to their left – there was a wide array, though Luisa couldn’t help but think that this wasn’t the fairest method of testing. Not all tributes were natural combatants, and some even became Victors by using non-traditional means. This would have left them at a major disadvantage.

Rose gravitated immediately towards the bow and a quiver full of arrows.  Noticing that Luisa had yet to pick anything, she nudged her hurriedly, jarring the brunette out of her own thoughts. After some consideration, she settled on a sword and a handful of knives.

They walked into the room that Seneca had indicated, weapons drawn and at the ready. They had a little time to take stock of their surroundings before the assault was to begin – the room was mostly plain, with few obstacles or hidey-holes. A straight up fight would be necessary, then. There _was_ a raised platform running around the room, acting as a sort of second floor. Luisa nodded to it, then at Rose. ‘Maybe you should go over there, take the higher ground.’

Rose nodded, and assumed the position. Seconds later, several orange holograms flickered to life. They took the shape of people, and bore a multitude of different weapons. At once, they charged. Rose took down two with well-placed arrows before they had much of a chance to move. Luisa drew her sword and brought it down in a mighty arc, hacking though the arm of the nearest hologram. The hologram disintegrated before her eyes. She had no time to dwell on the bizarreness of it, as more enemies were swiftly approaching.

There was a seemingly unrelenting stream of assailants – as soon as either of them took one down, another would quickly materialise somewhere else. Rose did her best to pick them off as they appeared, with Luisa taking out the ones she’d missed on the main floor. Both made sure to keep the other in their peripheral vision - which was why Luisa was prepared for the attack when it came.

One particularly clever orange hologram had managed to stealthily make its way onto the platform from which Rose was shooting. She was very much occupied, firing arrow after arrow towards the attackers on the ground, making sure that they did not become numerous enough to overwhelm Luisa. As the hologram was raising its sword to make a killing blow, it disintegrated; one of Luisa’s knives buried in its chest. Rose noticed it with a start, but then smirked down at Luisa. ‘Nice one, Lu.’

Luisa had time to perform a sarcastic bow in response, before swinging her sword into the nearest oncoming target.

The holograms eventually became less and less, until they flickered out entirely. The electric doors opened with a _whoosh_ , allowing the girls to leave the faux-battleground. The gamemakers were still seated on their platform outside, though many seemed impressed despite themselves.

Crane once again stood up. ‘Thank you, ladies. You will receive the results of this evaluation tonight, along with the rest of the tributes. Enjoy the rest of your evening.’

* * *

 

They had some time to kill before the results were announced, so wandered back to the District Twelve apartment slowly. This was an anomaly in and of itself – their time together thus far had been so structured – strategize, train, preform for the camera, repeat – that they rarely got to just be themselves, to talk about normal things. They didn’t know how to, at first – it felt so unusual, to talk about something because they wanted to and not because the Games demanded it – but they quickly found a rhythm.

They’d talked a little about their personal lives while training, but that had always come in second place, was always traded in between blows. It could be difficult to get a clear picture.

As she talked with Luisa – about nothing in particular, which almost added to the beauty of it – Rose realised that she couldn’t remember smiling this much in a long, long time. They weren’t always large, ear-splitting grins – though sometimes they were – but more often just a continuous half-smile, that transformed into something else whenever one of them made a joke or said something witty. It was a good feeling, one she could get used to.

The hours they needed to wait to hear the results of their evaluation passed by surprisingly quickly, and in what seemed to be the blink of an eye both girls were seated in the recreation area of the District Twelve apartment, Haymitch, Rogelio and Effie joining them.

The television blared out the national anthem – which none bar Effie bothered to be particularly interested in – before Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith appeared onscreen to the rapturous applaud of the crowd. They once again explained the rules, before officially announcing which tributes had allied together. Some of these came as a surprise to Rose and Luisa – it had not always been obvious in training who had chosen to ally with whom, as even by the last day some tributes had been fielding either multiple or zero offers. Haymitch had informed them that there was quite a betting pool going on in the Capitol, with some denizens gambling huge amounts of money on the chance of particular tributes allying together. Apparently, they were regarded as a safe bet at this point.

Daniel, Rose’s district partner, had chosen to ally with the female tribute from District Four. Haymitch had known this – he’d been the one to sign the papers – but his face nevertheless darkened. He didn’t like it, and knew it wouldn’t end well for his tribute. He’d warned Daniel of this, but when the boy had refused to listen to reason, Haymitch hadn’t pressed. He needed to focus his energies on Rose and Luisa, if the plan was going to work. Accepting that his tribute would die was a hard thing to come to terms with – Haymitch thought that his past self would be ashamed of the person he’d become, for even doing it at all – but at the end of the day, it was something he needed to do every year. Only one could win, after all. _Except this year_ , he thought viciously, _this year, there will be two._ _I’ll make damned sure of it_.

All five of them were taken aback when it was announced that Cato – strong, bull-like Cato – had allied with the small, scrawny boy from District Three. Rose and Luisa could barely remember them interacting in training, and doubted that they could have been very good at the team-building exercises. Their own experiences had shown them that listening and mutual trust were essential skills, and Luisa imagined that Cato would struggle with that even more than Rose had.

Perhaps a more bizarre combination was Thresh and Clove – it had been years since districts Two and Eleven had allied together, and their personalities didn’t exactly seem to match. Thresh was surly, and talked to very few people in training. Luisa had spoken to him once or twice and he seemed nice enough, just . . . reserved. She didn’t see him getting on well with the arrogant, entitled fire-brand that was Clove. They _would_ be pretty lethal together though – both got very high individual scores. Definitely ones to watch out for.

Luisa audibly gasped when Flickerman announced that Rue – little, sweet Rue – had allied with Marvel. She was sure that the girl had some skills – she seemed remarkably intelligent, and she had managed to teach Luisa a lot about plant recognition on that first day – but she doubted that they were skills that Marvel would appreciate. No, he’d done this to get to her. Marvel knew how close Luisa was to Jane – he’d always mocked her about it, as if loving her family was something she ought to be ashamed of – and must have noticed Rue’s physical resemblance to her. _Bastard_ , thought Luisa in an uncharacteristic thrill of rage, _I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him before he harms her_.

Rose looked to Luisa the second that particular alliance had been announced, and grabbed her hand. She ran her thumb down the base of it soothingly, hoping it would quell the other woman’s anger. Calming people down wasn’t exactly her strong suit, as it was normally she who needed to be calmed down, not the opposite.

After a minute, Luisa exhaled loudly and looked to Rose gratefully. They didn’t say anything, but Rose promised with her eyes that she’d support Luisa in whatever she wished to do to Marvel.

Scores were announced quickly afterward – several teams performed far worse than they had in individual evaluations, with only a handful scoring better. There was a tone of general shock amongst the hosts, and they remarked on it several times. Cato and Dell – the boy from District Three – pulled a 6. This lowered Cato’s overall total to 8, which both girls were sure would infuriate him. Marvel and Rue managed a 7 – which Luisa would almost certainly pin on Rue’s intelligence rather than any benevolence on Marvel’s part. She likely had the sense to stick close to him, to stay out of the fray for as long as she could. Clove and Thresh scored a 9, only a slight drop from their individual scores of 10. Rose remarked that their score could likely have been a result of their individual prowess, rather than any spectacular teamwork.

 ‘Rose and Luisa,’ announced Flickerman, ‘fast favourites amongst betting populations, as you know Claudius, have perhaps just witnessed their popularity increase with a team score of eleven. This maintains Rose’s fantastic overall score of eleven, and brings Luisa up to a ten.’

Applause rang through the District Twelve apartment – even Luisa was able to let go of her anger long enough to celebrate – as this would surely make them the overall favourites in the competition. ‘That phone’s not going to stop ringing for you guys, let me tell you,’ said Haymitch with a grin on his face, ‘You’ll have sponsors lining up around the block.’

Despite the shocking alliances, there was an aura of celebration in the District Twelve apartment that night. The five of them ate dinner together, and exchanged friendly stories. Rose, at first, sat and listened to this part, mostly content to enjoy the food and the animation on Luisa’s face as she interacted with people she had come to like.

It was unusual, to be so surrounded by people while she ate. Dinner in the town had always been filled with laughter and conversation, which she’d always been willing to participate in. That had changed after she had moved to the Seam, and whenever she had been able to scrape together enough food for a meal it had always been a quiet affair, neither Rose nor Elena having the slightest inclination to speak to each other. Haymitch caught her eye over the table, perhaps knowing what she was thinking. He lived in that house in Victors Village alone most days of the year, and had been in the Seam before that.

He made an effort to include her in the conversation, putting up with answers that were at first, caustic and unsophisticated. Before long, however, she found her rhythm, and was better able to participate in the general merriment.

As the night began winding down, Luisa found herself reluctant to return to the District One apartment. She knew Marvel would be particularly insufferable, as her score now significantly out-ranked his. And, knowing what she did about his alliance with Rue, she wasn’t feeling all that charitable towards him either.

She broached the topic of perhaps staying in the District Twelve apartment overnight, looking towards Haymitch and Rose for support. They seemed to be considering it, but then Effie let out a horrified shriek, speaking aghastly about ‘ _manners_ ’ and ‘ _propriety_.’

Haymitch chuckled, while Rose and Luisa’s cheeks coloured. She hadn’t _meant_ anything indecent – only staying on one of the several couches that were larger then several of the beds in the Marbella – but Effie’s mind had went there, apparently.

‘Get your mind out of the gutter, sweetheart,’ Haymitch directed at Effie, still chuckling. The older woman sputtered indignantly. He looked at Luisa. ‘You go ahead, kid. They’re the ones that advocated teamwork, they can’t complain too much about allies wanting to spend time together. Better stick to the couch, though, to preserve Ms. Prissy’s sanity over here.’

Still chuckling, everyone headed to their respective quarters, Luisa staying near the dining area and throwing herself onto one of the nearby couches. She closed her eyes, grinning. Today had been pretty good, all things considering. She drifted off to sleep contentedly, wondering half-heartedly what tomorrow may bring.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and Luisa's last day in the Capitol has arrived, bringing with it a swathe of new challenges - including the interview and their own conflicting emotions about the conclusion of this momentuous period.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while, but it's also a little longer than normal. Arena next chapter, which I know a lot of you have been looking forward to!

It felt decidedly odd to wake up on the sofa of the District Twelve apartment, but Luisa felt like she could get used to it. There was nothing exactly wrong with her usual lodgings, per se, but she ended up spending a lot of time in her room in order to avoid Marvel and his cruel jabs. It got kind of boring after a while, but was better than the alternative.

There was a quiet buzz of movement around her as she sat up. She could see Avoxes working to set up breakfast, laying out different kinds of foods and cleaning up any lingering mess from last night. She moved to help them, only to hear a quiet voice from somewhere near her whisper sharply, ‘Don’t!’

She looked around to find the source of the voice, and saw Effie seated on the sofa perpendicular to her own, a stack of files beside her that she seemed to be slowly working her way through.

‘They’ll get into trouble if you move to help. It’s best not to.’ She said this casually, but with enough finality to prevent Luisa from asking curious questions. The brunette remembered that there were likely any number of bugs listening in, so she decided not to press.

‘What is that you’re working on?’ She asked curiously, looking at the papers stacked neatly beside Effie.

‘Sponsorship forms,’ replied the older woman – who was currently sporting a pink wig, ‘It’s been a long time since I’ve had this many to fill out. Of course, I’m not complaining! It’s excellent news, particularly this early on.’

Luisa smiled. ‘I suppose that is good news.’ They sat in comfortable silence for a while, before Luisa asked, ‘So, what’s the plan for today?’

‘Well,’ said Effie enthusiastically, excited to talk through her detailed schedule, ‘At this point, Haymitch and I usually school our own tributes for the interviews. I handle etiquette whereas Haymitch handles content. This year, however, is a little different. Daniel will be instructed by the District Four mentors while you will be taught by us, if that is quite amenable to you, my dear. We believe it is the best way to ensure you go into the interview with a cohesive strategy. Mr. de la Vega is required to mentor the remaining District One tribute and his ally, but has said that he will try to make his way down to you before your training is over.’ She paused for breath, before continuing in the same excitable stream, ‘Then you will be sent for prep. It is less extensive than the session you underwent when you got here, but will nevertheless likely take several hours.’

Luisa nodded, accepting that the other woman knew best. ‘Alright. Is there anything I can do in the meantime?’

‘Not at all, dear. Just enjoy breakfast – there ought to be several spare pairs of clothes in Rose’s room, you can change into those for the time being. Off you go, now.’

* * *

 

Haymitch was not a morning person. At home, if he went to bed at all, he didn’t get up until well past noon. Wasn’t really any point – he never had anywhere to be. These Games-mandated early mornings were not good for him. He sighed, thinking of the day ahead. Interview prepping was always one of his least favourite aspects of mentoring – not that he particularly enjoyed any of it – but being locked in a room with moody, argumentative teenagers, all pinning their hopes of survival on him, was never a highlight.

He’d take Luisa first. He’d never coached someone from outside of his District before – he was the only District Twelve mentor, after all, and so his services were always needed at home, so to speak – and thus didn’t know what to expect. Luisa seemed sweet enough – unlike the usual career grunts, that’s for sure – but still, there were sure to be some cultural differences. A lot of the Victors from Districts One and Two that he’d talked to tended to have very different perspectives to the Games than he did. They weren’t necessarily wrong, he was ready to acknowledge, just different.

Still, he had an inkling that Luisa would need less instruction than Rose. She had an issue with controlling her emotions – she wasn’t prone to fits of anger in the same way that Rose was, but every feeling she did experience was always written plainly across her face. Given the persona he wanted her to project, this wasn’t entirely a negative thing, but would still need to be schooled somewhat so that the cameras did not see anything that it would be best for them not to see. Otherwise, though, she would be okay. Haymitch hadn’t known her long, but could already tell that she was naturally friendly and cheerful. The audience would like that, if she could show it to them. It’d set her apart from the normal career idiots.

Rose would be another matter – she was determined to win, he could see that much in her eyes – and had already shown some skill in manipulating the cameras. It was her temper that was the problem. Oh, she’d probably adopt whatever persona he suggested to her at the interviews after some prodding and maybe a little careful manipulation, but it was afterwards that worried him. He didn’t think that she really had any clue how tough the arena could be – he hadn’t either, and he’d been almost as cocky – and that would be dangerous. She couldn’t allow her temper to dismantle whatever persona she built up.

He sighed, and called in Luisa. Today would be a long day.

* * *

 

As he’d predicted, Luisa’s coaching had gone smoothly enough. Her upbringing had given her a natural affinity for interacting with Capitol citizens which he was sure would translate well to the interviews. She’d have them eating out of her hand in no time.

Caesar was a talented interviewer, kinder than Claudius and without the same malicious streak. He seemed to genuinely care for the tributes, and tried to present all of them in the best light possible – even the ones whom it was clear never stood a chance. He’d be gentle with Luisa, and attempt to pose only questions that she’d be comfortable answering, or ones that Haymitch had given him clearance to ask in the pre-interview briefing.

However, Caesar had few ways of knowing which topics would set a tribute off. There was every chance that he could ask something, and not know that Luisa would react negatively to it. In order to stop that from happening, she _needed_ to learn how to keep her features impassive.

He thought he had a pretty good idea of how to do that – he remembered reading a book once about jokes people would share on a digital communication platform called the “internet” – such a thing seemed remarkable to Haymitch – commonly referred to as “memes.” A lot of them seemed pretty incomprehensible, and he’d needed the detailed footnotes to work out exactly what was funny about a lot of them – but there was one that seemed like it could come in useful now.

The ‘Try Not to Laugh’ challenge, it had been called. As far as he understood, the aim had been for players to be shown a barrage of amusing images and not show the slightest reaction. He’d prepared the images last night, and greatly amused himself doing so.

‘So,’ he said, finishing his explanation, ‘You up for this?’

Luisa looked at him doubtfully, but shrugged. ‘I suppose so.’ Maybe she’d even be able to get some fun out of this – it was more than she’d expected from today, anyway.

He held up the first image – one of a cat wearing glasses – with a straight-face, though there was a glimmer in his eye. Luisa clamped her mouth shut, but couldn’t help the peal of laughter that forced its way out.

Haymitch’s own mouth twisted in amusement at the expression on the other woman’s face – it wasn’t often that he got to see his tributes smile like this, and he wished that he didn’t have to make it go away – but he forced himself to adopt a stern expression. ‘C’mon,’ he said reproachfully, ‘You can do better than that. Let’s try again.’

Luisa did get marginally better, to the extent that he was reasonably confident she’d be able to handle the majority of Caesar’s questions. Haymitch, after several valiant attempts, gave up holding in his laughter at Luisa’s reactions. More-often-than-not, their rounds resulted in both of them collapsing in fits of giggles.

Normally, such a deviation from his plan of action would cause him to become sullen and grouchy – not entirely unlike Rose, for that matter – but this time, he thought he could let it stand. Tomorrow, Luisa would be entering the arena. When that happened, a tribute’s mental state mattered almost as much as their physical ability. He’d seen it several times in his almost a quarter of a century as a mentor – tributes who may have survived a lot longer than they eventually did, slaughtered at the Cornucopia because they entered the Games firmly believing that they were going to die. It made them either reckless or entirely passive.

He could tell that Luisa had been heading the same way, at the beginning of training. Once their alliance had been solidified, Rogelio had confided in Haymitch his worries about his mentee, which Haymitch had quietly agreed with. He’d watched back over some of her early footage – the reaping, her arrival at the Capitol, the Parade – and began to notice things. She’d seemed fine  on the face of it – calm, composed and amicable enough – but there had been a tautness to her posture, and she hadn’t interacted with the crowd with the ability that he knew her to possess.

Looking at her now, she seemed better. There was a shine to her eyes and an energy to her movements that had been missing when she first got here. She seemed more sure of herself, better able to handle the momentous task that was before her. Haymitch hoped fervently that she’d be able to do it – not just for his own sense of rebellion, but because she seemed to be a genuinely sweet girl.

He wasn’t sure how he’d be able to handle losing either of them. It was hard enough in a regular year, when their faces were relatively anonymous and he was too slashed in a pre-emptive self-medication attempt to really get to know them in the short three-day period, but it would be different this time. He’d gotten to know them, he’d gotten to _like_ them.

He sighed, casting the idea from his mind. He had to focus on the now, on training Rose and Luisa, or the worst really would come to pass.

* * *

 

Rose and Effie, in the midst of etiquette and presentation lessons, were situated a few rooms down from Haymitch and Luisa. To say that Rose was not having a good time would be an understatement, but she was trying to reign in her temper – loath as she was to admit it, this would be useful, and she desperately needed Effie’s help.

High heels had been a rarity in District Twelve – they were worn neither by the miners nor the shopkeepers as they were viewed as impractical for such professions, with only public officials such as the mayor’s wife or daughter ever having occasion to wear them. Rose could remember trying on a pair owned by Madge’s mother when she was very young – she’d stumbled clumsily around their house, falling numerous times until Mr Undersee had told her in no uncertain terms to stop before she injured herself.

She didn’t have that option now, as apparently all tributes were expected to wear shoes several inches higher than even Mrs. Undersee’s had been. Capitol women learned how to walk flawlessly in them from a young age, so any tribute who stumbled would be the subject of ridicule and bound to lose potential sponsors.

It was frustrating, to say the least. She was pretty sure that her legs were covered with rapidly purpling bruises from all the times she’d managed to knock into varying pieces of furniture. The shoes themselves, she had mixed feelings about. She enjoyed the boost that they gave her height – she was already tall, so the shoes made her tower over the people around her. It made her feel powerful, in a way. But then on the other hand, Rose was a hunter. That necessitated a certain degree of subtlety and caution – which she was painfully aware that she was lacking whenever she wore them.

Still, she was improving. By the end of the hours-long session, she had finally reached a standard that the perfectionistic Effie had deemed “acceptable.”

* * *

 

Several hours, an exchange of mentors, and two gruelling prep sessions later, Rose and Luisa found themselves on Caesar’s stage, dressed to the nines and waiting for their interviews to commence. The outfits at the Parade had been more about show than style, designed to entertain or even shock the audience. In them, the tributes looked more like children playing dress-up – which, of course, many of them were – rather than people sentenced to almost certain death within a matter of days. The interviews, however, offered stylists the chance to dress them in the finest styles that the Capitol had to offer.

Rose wore a dress similar to the one at the Parade, but without the hidden mechanisms at the back for dispensing fire, though Cinna had told her that the audience may be in for a pleasant surprise if she twirled at some point in the interview. Rose had a sneaking suspicion what may happen, and was almost childishly excited to see their reactions.

In a return to the traditionalism that had been lacking up until this point, it was decreed that tributes would be interviewed in the usual chronological order according to District, meaning that Rose and Luisa were positioned at opposite ends of the stage from one another. Haymitch claimed that this was a good thing, as it ensured that audience interest would be fixed on them throughout the interviewing process. Rose hoped that that would be the case.

She looked over to Luisa now, who was waiting patiently at the front of the queue, and couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she looked. She’d always been attracted to the other woman – ever since she’d seen her at the Reaping – but it had been an almost shallow thing, not truly different to the other fleeting crushes she’d experienced on other women except, perhaps, in intensity. But she’d since come to know Luisa – better and with more fondness than she had anyone since Madge, all those years ago – she’d found that those feelings had deepened, to the extent that she was almost unable to concentrate on what was going on around her.

And _that_ was dangerous.

Marvel was the first to be interviewed. She wasn’t sure what Haymitch had spent the morning doing with Luisa, but whatever it was seemed to be working. Rose watched with some pride in her eyes as Luisa managed to keep her face impassive, refraining from rolling her eyes at the blonde idiot’s boasting and posturing.

‘So, Marvel, tell me,’ said Caesar while facing the boy, ‘What do you believe is your greatest strength in the arena?’

Marvel went on to give a blow-by-blow account of all of his skills, while flexing his muscles and attempting to look threatening. It may have worked on some, but Rose saw him for exactly what it was and barely refrained from snorting. Seeing the interview play out like this, Rose could see the truth in Haymitch’s point about not talking too much strategy. It was quite frankly boring – he sounded remarkably like his parents, or at least the little Rose could remember about them from the home interviews. Entirely forgettable. His list of skills had been so excessively extensive that a discerning tribute could read between the lines and assume his weaknesses.

‘Care to shed some light on your relationship with your ally?’ Asked Caesar, with genuine curiosity in his voice, ‘I know many of us were shocked when we heard the news.’

For one hot second, Marvel froze, something dark appearing in his eyes. Rose turned to look at Luisa, she herself fighting to keep the worry off her face. The other woman’s posture was noticeably taut, and her dress was ever-so-slightly rumpled at the sides, suggesting that her hands had been balled into fists. Her face, however, had retained its impassivity. _Good_ , thought Rose as she turned her attention back to the interview, interested to hear what Marvel had to say for himself.

He plastered a cocky smile back onto his face and said, ‘I noticed her talking to my District partner in training, and figured I’d go over and introduce myself. We had a good time together, and she’s pretty skilled. She’ll be an asset in the arena.’

His interview concluded with an unfortunately enthusiastic round of applause from the audience, and Luisa was called onto the stage. Rose could tell that she was shaken up, but she managed to make her way over to the hotseat with a kind of grace and poise which she was sure Effie would be proud of.

She smiled at Caesar, and then at the audience – it was a beautiful smile, wide and energetic and seemed to overtake her whole face. Rose could stare at it for hours, and she knew it’d be just as effective with the crowd.

Caesar laughed jovially and said, ‘So, Luisa. I’ve had several phonecalls over the past few days from Capitol citizens, all enquiring as to why you appear so familiar to them. I myself am baffled – could you think of any reason that could be?’

Luisa laughed in response – it was a light, airy sound, different from the way that Rose knew her laugh normally sounded like – and said, ‘Yes, I suppose so. My father, back home in District One, runs a hotel. We get a lot of Capitol visitors, and a lot of the time it was my job to make sure they have a good time – giving tours of the District, making sure that they had enough to drink, that kind of thing.’ She looked directly at the audience, grinning mischievously, ‘We’re taking bookings right now.’

There was a roar of laughter from the audience, as well as some enthusiastic applause. Caesar chuckled good-naturedly. ‘We’ll keep that in mind – I’ve been thinking of taking a vacation! Perhaps District One really is the place to be.’ His voice lowered and became more serious. ‘Now, Luisa – you volunteered for someone in order to be here. We’ve since interviewed her, but could you tell us a little about your relationship?’

Luisa’s smile remained in place, though it dimmed slightly. ‘Yes, that’s right. Jane’s mother and grandmother work and live in the hotel. We grew up together, and she’s like a sister to me. I know that participation in the Games is an honour,’ she said, almost as an afterthought, ‘but I didn’t want to risk her getting hurt.’

‘Do you miss her?’ He asked, eager to move on from any potentially dangerous public critique of the Games.

Luisa nodded. ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘It was difficult at first, but the wonderful people I’ve met here have made it better.’ She flashed a smile at the audience, which was met with a charmed applause.

Caesar jumped on the change of topic. ‘We’ve noticed that you appear to have grown closer to one person in particular – one Rose Ruvelle. Is there perchance something more than friendship blossoming between the two of you?’

Luisa smiled, a slow, secretive smile – which she’d agreed upon with Haymitch – and looked towards the floor, away from the audience. ‘Maybe,’ she said, a blush colouring her cheeks. The crowd gasped, many of them starting hushed conversations amongst themselves in excited tones.

‘Well,’ said Caesar, an amused grin on his face, ‘It seems you’ve just ignited considerable interest. But sorry, folks – that’s all Luisa has time for.’ He faced the audience directly, and said, ‘Why don’t you show her just how much her comment has intrigued you.’

The applause was deafening, and lasted until Luisa had made her way back to her seat. She smiled and winked at Rose as she did so, which only seemed to fan the flames. Cato was already next to Caesar and looked thoroughly unimpressed by the time that it finally died down.

The interviews proceeded as normal, after that. Each career gave a characteristically bland interview, to the extent that they tended to blend together and become hard to distinguish from one-another. Rose was sure that they’d gain some sponsors from it – they did every year, after all – but she thought that they’d fail to garner any kind of long term audience interest.

Rue and Thresh were interesting – Caesar was able to use Rue’s obvious youth to manipulate audience sympathies, as well as capitulate on her alliance with Marvel – which, in theory should improve her chances by improving her ability to defend herself, though Rose and Luisa knew the truth.

Thresh was different – he made few attempts at genuine conversation, answering Caesar’s questions with very simple one or two words sentences. The effect was powerful – it made him seem like he was above Caesar’s inquiries, above the audience themselves. It was something different, and the crowd seemed to enjoy it, though they weren’t entirely sure what to make of it.

Daniel came next. He answered Caesar’s questions readily enough – coming across as likeable, but not particularly remarkable. The crowd seemed to be restless, having been sat there for a long time. They were eager to hear something that would shock them, that would excite them, that would make them believe that staying until the end had been worth it. Rose thought that she had just the thing in mind.

‘And now, though our last tribute surely needs no introduction, I’ll give her one anyway – Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in between, join me in welcoming Rose Ruvelle to the stage.’

Rose – as the Girl on Fire and the person who had achieved the highest score in training – was always going to receive enthusiastic applause, but Luisa’s implications seemed to have tipped the crowd over the edge. They screamed her name, some sporting banners, t-shirts or even tattoos with her face proudly displayed on them. She’d always revelled in the attention that they gave her, but even she found some of them a little excessive, even disconcerting.

‘Rose, Rose, Rose,’ said Caesar in a tone of faux-distress, ‘Where to even begin? You are a mystery to us, my dear – your entrance as the Girl On Fire is sure to go down in Games history, and you’ve received the highest score since Finnick Odair nearly ten years ago. And now, as suggested by your ally, you may even be at the centre of a love story.’

The crowd were almost entirely silent as Caesar spoke, waiting with baited breath for confirmation of the revelation.

‘And yet,’ he continued, ‘We know almost nothing about you. Home interviews will be broadcast tonight – don’t forget that, folks - ’ He turned towards the audience with a charming smile before focusing his attention back on Rose, ‘- which leaves us with almost an entirely blank slate. Hopefully, we’ll be able to scratch the surface.’

‘I hope that too,’ said Rose, smiling broadly and adding a cheeky wink for effect.

‘So, we can’t begin talks without first mentioning your training score – an eleven in both individual and teams! Simply outstanding! Would you care to comment on that?’

Rose nodded, doing her best to appear humble and modest, ‘I was thrilled to receive the results that I did, and I’m hugely grateful to the judges for giving them to me.’ _As they should have_ , she thought bitterly, remembering the lack of attention that they had paid her during her first evaluation. They’d learned since then.

‘Could you give us any indication of how you achieved those results?’

Rose smiled coyly, and shifted a piece of hair away from her face. ‘I think that’s best left as a surprise for the arena, don’t you? A girl’s got to retain some aura of mystery.’

Caesar laughed – a full, deep laugh that appeared genuine, and prompted the audience to laugh along with him. ‘I see, I see. Well, I’ll let you keep that one to yourself. I’m sure we’ll discover it in due course. Anyone want to take a bet?’ He asked into the crowd.

Several audience members shouted out possible solutions, ranging from plausible to truly bizarre. She heard some of them mention archery, and made sure to keep her face carefully impassive.

‘Let’s get back to business, shall we?’ He said, mindful of the time. ‘We were all blown away by your parade costume – how did that make you feel? Were you scared?’

‘A little, at first,’ replied Rose, not entirely lying. There _had_ been one wild moment where she thought she’d be burned alive, before common sense had returned to her. ‘But I trusted Cinna. I knew he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me. And it looked spectacular, didn’t it?’ She asked, facing the crowd with a bright smile on her face.

They roared in response, some of them leaning in odd directions, showing off the flame patterns that had been embroidered on their clothing.

Thinking that it was now or never, Rose raised her voice to speak above the din, and said, ‘He said that this costume held another surprise. Do you want to see?’

The response was so overwhelmingly positive that she didn’t bother to wait for Caesar’s go-ahead. She rose from her seat and performed a twirl, followed by several others in quick succession. The effect was instantaneous. Artificial flames – similar to the ones at the parade, but a little more subtle – licked their way up the dress, making it appear as if it was on fire.

The crowd went absolutely _wild_. The flames lasted just a few scant seconds – a calculated design on Cinna’s part, to afford Rose time to get her interview back on track – but by the time that they had entirely subsided, the Capitolites were chanting either her name or some variation of the ‘Girl On Fire’ epithet.

It was _exhilarating_.

Caesar motioned with his hands, urging them to quieten down. ‘Come now, good people, I have more questions for our lovely Rose. Surely you all want to hear them?’ He shot a winning smile in their direction, which proved to be remarkably successful.

Rose noticed that he seemed to be better at this than the President. Snow held the crowd’s attention out of a mixture of fear and respect – but if something happened that excited them enough, as had her costume at the Parade, he had a hard time calling that attention back. The only reason he had succeeded at the Parade was due to the unprecedented nature of his announcement – had it been a normal year, Rose doubted that he would have been able to regain control.

Caesar, though, was a different story. He held the attention of the crowd _because he was good at it_. He was not a government employee – though that was debatable, Rose thought, given the amount of control that the government had over the media – and as such, did not have any official forms of power of his own. And yet, he was probably one of the most influential people in Panem. People listened to him because they _wanted_ to, not out of any obligation. As Rose was beginning to learn, there were very few situations that he could not diffuse with a smile, a laugh and a practical suggestion.

She sat back down, and Caesar asked, ‘So, Rose – we’ve heard a little about your time here in the Capitol, but what about your life at home? Do you have any friends, any family you’d like to talk about?’

She’d need to be careful about this – she had no way of knowing what Madge and maybe even Elena would say, and couldn’t risk contradicting anything. Then again, she couldn’t exactly tell the truth, either. She smiled, in a way which she hoped would conjure up the same aura of mystery that had so enchanted the crowd earlier, and said, ‘Well, Caesar, I was a bit of a lone wolf – didn’t always play well with others.’ _That ought to be enough to explain why there won’t be a huge amount people at my home interview_ , she thought with satisfaction, ‘But I did have one friend. Madge.’

‘She was the girl that you volunteered for, right? What made you do that?’

‘Madge’s father is the mayor, and she always wanted to follow in his footsteps. She couldn’t have done that if she came here. And besides,’ she said, flashing a grin into the crowd, ‘I wanted to come here to meet you all.’

Caesar nodded, satisfied with her answer. ‘Interestingly – and we’ve reached the part I’m sure many of you are most eager to hear – your ally also volunteered for someone close to her. Luisa shared some riveting implications with us, could you expand on them?’

Frustratingly for her dignity, Rose’s answering blush was 100% genuine. She looked towards the ground, suddenly very interested in the odd glittery pattern of the floor. ‘I told you that I’m not really a people person,’ she said, looking up once more, ‘but I guess that there are always exceptions. I enjoy spending time with her and,’ she looked at the floor again, ‘I think it could become something more.’ She paused, considering her next words. She’d covered everything that Haymitch had required of her, but thought she could say something . . . more.

She looked directly into the camera, out of which she assumed that President Snow would be watching, and said, ‘I’m grateful to the Capitol for providing this opportunity. In any other year, Luisa and I would have no chance.’ _Not that you expect us to,_ she thought, anger perhaps clouding her better judgement, _but we’ll give you a run for your money_. ‘But now we do,’ she said, a false brightness in her voice, ‘And I look forward to being able to figure things out with her.’

‘There you have it, folks – straight from the mouth of the Girl On Fire herself! I, for one, look forward to seeing this develop.’ His face became mournful, and he said, ‘But this concludes our interview session for tonight. Remember to tune in later to hear the remainder of the home interviews, and then I suggest an early night – it’ll be a bright and early start tomorrow for the first day of the 74th Annual Hunger Games!’

This was greeted with energetic applause, as well as a few mock views from spectators who wanted the show to last longer.

Caesar faced the row of tributes on the stage behind him, divided by District and gender, and said to all of them at once, ‘May the odds be ever in your favour.’

* * *

 

The mood at dinner that night was decidedly odd – they had plenty to celebrate, given the success of both interviews and the way that the crowd had reacted to them, but there was also an air of finality. This would be their last dinner together as a team – perhaps even their last ever. They had a plan for the arena, but even the best-laid plans could go awry. By tomorrow evening, one or both of them may be dead. It was a sobering thought, and one that cast a very long shadow.

Several attempts at idle conversation were made – largely about Rose’s feelings regarding the home interview, which the District Twelve team (plus Luisa and Rogelio) had gathered to watch together a few scant moments before. Problem was, Rose didn’t really _have_ any feelings about it – or at least not any she wanted to waste time thinking about. Elena had been _Elena_ , the image of a doting and supportive stepmother, waxing poetic into the camera about how much she loved her step-daughter, how much she was hoping for her to come home. Rose knew that this was likely a ploy to get herself some kind of pay-off if she did come home, or sympathy if she didn’t. Either way, it didn’t surprise her. She’d long since given up on expecting anything positive from her.

Madge had been more confusing, and was something that she didn’t want to dwell too deeply on. He story had perfectly aligned with the one she had told Caesar on that stage, but she’d seemed so genuine about it. Rose couldn’t figure her out – it had been years since they’d really spoken, so she had no true way of knowing whether or not the other woman had just become a very good actress, or if she truly meant the things she had said.

Haymitch put down his cutlery and cleared his throat when it appeared that everyone else was finished eating, jarring Rose out of thoughts that she didn’t want to be having. ‘You both did good today,’ he said, a hint of pride mingling with his usual cynicism, ‘Rogelio and I can barely keep up with all the calls for sponsor meetings that we’ve been getting, and I know Effie is swamped with paperwork. We should be able to scrounge together enough sponsorship money to send you pretty much anything you’d need. But,’ he said in a stern tone, ‘and it’s an important but – don’t get complacent. The gamemakers love to hike the prices of items that tributes desperately need, and it’s always possible that that will happen. I’m also not going to send you anything that you could easily get yourself – if you think that you need something and don’t see a parachute, it’s probably because the thing you need is pretty close at hand.’

Both girls nodded, taking Haymitch’s advice. Luisa turned to Rogelio, and asked, ‘Any last advice?’

‘Just be yourself in the arena, Luisa,’ he said, softly. ‘They will love you, as I do. As Jane does.’ He got up then, and pulled Luisa into a bone-crushing hug.

It went on for several emotionally loaded moments, during which Haymitch nudged Rose and said, in an effort to diffuse the tension, ‘What? Not going to ask me for my last advice?’

Rose rolled her eyes. ‘If you must.’

Haymitch grinned, and said with just about the cockiest smirk he could muster, ‘Stay alive, sweetheart.’

Rose hit him.

* * *

 

The view from the roof was as pretty and as picturesque as it had always been. After her goodbye with Rogelio, Luisa had wanted somewhere quiet to relax and to take stock of the days to come. Rose had suggested this place and somewhat awkwardly offered to come with her, knowing that this was somewhere that the bugs could not follow them.

They sat in silence for a while, just taking in the views. They really were beautiful. Rose wasn’t used to talking about her feelings, or encouraging others to do so. All-in-all, she’d rather avoid it. But she knew that doing so often helped Luisa to process things, and she wanted to be a good ally, in ways more than just the physical. ‘So,’ she began tentatively, ‘How are you feeling about all of this?’

Luisa sighed – it was a gesture full of emotion, but Rose couldn’t pick out which ones. She’d guess that Luisa was also having problems with that. ‘Better than I thought I’d be, to be honest. It’s hard, knowing that I might never see Rogelio again. Or Jane, or Raf, or my father. But I also now know that winning isn’t impossible. And that’s down to you.’ She bit her lip, staring at Rose a little oddly. ‘I know this wasn’t a situation that you wanted, but I’m glad that things have worked out this way. I’m glad that you’ll be with me.’

Rose wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to this – it was far from her normal territory. Luisa was right – Rose hadn’t wanted an ally, and had expressed that to the other woman several times in moments of frustration. She’d regretted that soon afterwards, seeing the hurt that had flickered across her face. Now, she wasn’t sure how she felt. She still thought that she’d like to do a traditional Games – it had been what she had prepared for, after all – but she couldn’t deny the impact that Luisa has had on her. She just didn’t know.

‘Luisa,’ she said, voice laden with uncertainty, ‘I still don’t know how I feel about all of this, but I do know – I’m glad it’s you, too.’

Tentatively, as if she was unsure about whether or not she was doing the right thing, Rose put her arm across Luisa’s shoulders and pulled her into a kind of one-armed hug.

They stayed in that position for a while, neither talking and both simply staring at the busy streets below them, wondering what the following days would hold.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let the Games begin!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As it is the first day of the Games, expect gore and violence. There's one scene in particular that might make some squemish (involves blood.)  
> I am not a doctor and every medical sight I went to advised going to the ER, which, GUESS WHAT THERE AREN'T A LOT OF IN THE HUNGER GAMES, so I fudged some details.   
> Enjoy! I know a lot of you guys have been looking forward to this, hope I don't disappoint.

Rose awoke on the morning she was due to enter the arena feeling oddly conflicted, but was unable to place exactly why. She _should_ be elated – this day would see the culmination of years’ worth of training, and would finally elevate her from life in the Seam. She could feel _some_ excitement coiling in her stomach, but there was something else there too, something that she hadn’t anticipated. Something like . . . something like _worry_.

_Why?_ She thought furiously, wracking her brains, _Why am I feeling this now?_ She hadn’t felt this way on the morning of the reaping – she’d been determined, and excited – all comfortably predictable emotions, things that she’d known she would feel. _Why was it different now?_

And then it hit her.

Luisa. She felt differently because of Luisa. In her original plans, she’d been on her own. She’d had no-one to rely on but herself, and also no-one else she’d have to worry about. And worry she would, she realised with a start. She’d . . . grown to care for the other woman, and didn’t want anything to happen to her. Moreover, she wanted to share her victory with her.

She sighed, rubbing her forehead. She didn’t have time to think about this. She needed to ready herself for the Games. Her clothes had been prepared for her, and laid out on the foot of her bed. They were simple, practical – long trousers, a long-sleeved shirt and a hardy, water-resistant jacket. It wasn’t dissimilar to the clothes she’d wear to the woods at home, though were naturally of a better quality.

She put them on, and spared one final glance at her room. She’d become comfortable here – it had been nice to be able to wake up in the morning and not have to worry about a leaking roof, or walls infested with damp, or whether she’d be able to scrape together enough food for a meal that evening. She’d been able to go to bed at night and actually _rest_ , without worrying too much about what the morning may bring.

That was over now. She squared her shoulders, gearing herself up to go. She left the room without looking back once.

There were two armoured peacekeepers outside of her door, both wielding impressive-looking guns. Rose herself doubted that guns would be truly necessary – it was well-known that tributes who tried to avoid entering the arena, either by suicide or an escape attempt – were found and stopped before they could go through with it. The cameras were everywhere. Not only were the offending tributes then punished by a particularly gruesome and very obviously pre-arranged death in the arena, but their entire District was forced to deal with the consequences. Rose didn’t particularly care what happened to the people of District Twelve – not after the way that they’d treated her, but she would not suffer an ignoble death.

The guards escorted her to a hovercraft, which would presumably take her to the arena. There were several other tributes in there with her, but none she particularly recognised. Luisa wasn’t there, and neither were the other Careers. She didn’t think much of it – she was in only one of several crafts. A woman in a nurse’s uniform came over to her, a wicked sharp needle in hand.

‘Hold out your arm,’ she said, voice gruff and business-like. Rose did as indicated, and the woman injected her with a strange kind of fluid. ‘This is your tracker. It will allow the game-makers to be aware of your presence at all times throughout the duration of the Games, particularly if you end up in a zone with few cameras.’

Rose nodded, accepting this. It was a somewhat disconcerting thing to hear – but then again, she’d always known that she’d be constantly monitored. Hell, she was _already_ being constantly monitored, save for the handful of moments she’d been able to snatch on the roof. It had been a difficult thing for her to come to terms with – she’d lived so much of her life alone, rarely interacting with anyone. In the past, she’d gone days without interacting with another living soul. And she liked it that way.

The hovercraft landed roughly, jostling the onboard tributes from where they sat. Guards unbuckled their seatbelts – because they were apparently deemed incapable of doing it for themselves – and escorted them to individual rooms far underground, presumably beneath the arena itself.

The room that Rose was brought into was cold and metallic, with a clear glass tube in the centre. Cinna was beside it, dressed in his usual almost casual attire, different from that typically worn by Capitolites. Noticing the direction of her gaze, he said, ‘Yeah, you’ll be taken up to the arena in that. But first,’ he pressed something into her hands, ‘Here. Your District token. The gamemakers finally cleared it.’

The _it_ in question was a metallic object, golden in colour and no bigger than the face of a watch. The depicted bird was downward-facing, an arrow clutched in its mouth, wings cowed but not flightless. Her mockingjay pin! She could honestly say that she’d forgotten all about it – she’d been doing her best to block that final, _confusing_ conversation with Madge out of her mind, but now she could see the appropriateness of using a former symbol of rebellion as her token, considering what she and Luisa were trying to do.

She fumbled a little with the clasp, and Cinna moved in to help her. ‘Here,’ he said, ‘let me.’ There was a lull in conversation as he fixed it, until he suddenly spoke up. ‘You’re going to do fine. Follow Haymitch’s instructions, try to avoid conflict if it’s possible. Some of them will still be a lot stronger than you. And remember this: I’m not allowed to bet, but if I could, I’d bet on you.’

Rose’s heart swelled with something resembling pride – Cinna’s words meant a lot to her. It wasn’t often she carried the support of an adult that she respected – and respect Cinna she did. His fiery costumes had been a stroke of genius which had certainly helped to attract attention that may have otherwise been lost in the hands of a weaker stylist. ‘Thank you,’ she said, finding that she genuinely meant it, ‘for everything. See you on the other side?’

There was an almost playful lilt to her voice that caused Cinna to laugh, breaking the sombre mood that had been permeating the air seconds before. He nodded, ‘See you on the other side, Girl on Fire.’

Rose smiled and stepped into the tube at the centre of the room. The doors whooshed shut behind her, locking with a loud and final click. The floor beneath her began to move, lifting her out of the tunnel and into the arena. She watched as Cinna faded from view, the area around her gradually becoming darker and darker. She became uncomfortably aware of the tightness of the space she was in, a found herself longing for the safety of solid ground – of course, she was heading into the arena, so she supposed that “safety” would be relative.

When the tube finally reached the surface, the sudden brightness was almost overwhelming. It took some time for her eyes to adjust – she blinked rapidly, hoping to help the process along, and thought that she must have looked rather stupid. She needn’t have worried, as when the other tributes began appearing one-by-one, they too experienced similar moments of disorientation. Once all tributes made it up, the clock began counting down. _Sixty, fifty-nine, fifty-eight_. . .

Her eyes cleared after a couple of seconds, and she took stock of the arena around her. To the distance, she could see some kind of wheat field. She’d steer clear of that – it was totally unlike the kind of land she was used to, and probably contained any number of creatures she would be vastly unequipped to deal with. On the opposite side, there was a large lake. Rose hoped that that was not the only water-source, because it was very open and would leave them vulnerable to attack. The majority of the arena was taken up by what seemed to be a large woods – now _that_ she could deal with. It was familiar territory, something she’d hopefully be able to navigate easily.

_They_ , she reminded herself harshly, something _they’d_ be able to navigate easily. _Where was Luisa?_ She cast an almost anxious glance around, searching for her ally. If she’d been positioned far away from her, it’d cause problems. They’d be forced to enter the fray just to be able to meet up.

But it seemed that the gamemakers were smiling on them - or at least on the story the audience wanted to see unfold - because Luisa was positioned almost immediately to her right. The other woman looked scared – her posture was off, and she stared around her a little bemusedly. However, as the seconds ticked on, Rose could see a specific kind of determination growing behind the other woman’s eyes that she was becoming more and more acquainted with. Rose waved to catch Luisa’s eye. They looked at each other, and both nodded. They knew what they had to do.

With the time on the counter rapidly dwindling, Rose focused her attention on the Cornucopia. She was not the only one to do so, as several tributes were now coming out of the daze that the unfamiliar environment had wrought on them and were eyeing their desired weapons with a mixture of steely determination and something almost resembling lust. Rose eventually spotted her bow, and sighed in frustration. It was positioned almost at the opposite end of the cornucopia from where she was standing, right in front of the girl from District Four who’d handled it so poorly in training. The Gamemakers must have been more pissed off about the arrow in their pig than her score had suggested.

This was bad. She needed that bow – so many of her plans, her ability to protect both herself and Luisa, hinged almost entirely on her possessing it. There was nothing she could do other than square her shoulders and prepare to run, as fast as she possibly could. She’d fight for it if she had to, she had no doubt about that.

Luisa noticed Rose’s posture and imitated it, preparing herself to run at the same pace as her ally. She knew what Rose’s eyes had been drawn to, and that there would be no dissuading the other woman from doing it. All she could do was follow, and make sure she didn’t get hurt in the attempt. Besides, Luisa could see a sword and a wicked looking collection of knives almost on the way.

_Three, two, one . . ._

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ exclaimed the voice of Caesar Flickerman, ‘Let the Seventy-Fourth Annual Hunger Games begin!’

Both women charged off their platforms as soon as they were able, running towards their goal. They had a momentary advantage over the other tributes, who scrambled to connect with their allies, but it was only momentary. Soon, it was chaos. Tributes came from every direction, grabbing whatever supplies and weapons they could carry.

Then, the bloodbath began.

Tributes took weapons to the gut, had their heads bashed in, their necks snapped. Luisa didn’t think that Rose noticed any of this – she was so focused on her goal, so determined to get her weapon that the chaos around her faded into the background. Luisa couldn’t _not_ let it phase her – some of the things she was seeing were so grotesque that she knew she’d be seeing them, again and again, in her dreams. However many nights of them she had left, anyway. But she also couldn’t afford to fall apart – if she did, it’d be the end for her right now, and maybe even Rose along with her.

Luisa grabbed the sword that she’d seen from her platform and strapped it onto her belt, as well as several knives. The knives would likely prove to have a number of uses, so she knew to take quite a few. She kept one in her hand, uncomfortably aware that she may soon have to use it.

Then disaster struck.

The girl from District Four – the one who was allied with Rose’s district partner, picked up the bow – Rose’s bow – with a triumphant smirk on her face. She nocked an arrow, turned, and loosed it into a tribute immediately to her right. It was a short distance, and almost impossible for someone with even the smallest amount of training to miss. The poor kid didn’t stand a chance. Still, Rose did not falter and continued to propel herself – and Luisa by extension – towards her target. The girl turned, and spotted them approaching. She smiled, likely with excitement as the chance of taking down the Girl on Fire had just appeared before her – and readied another arrow. They had almost reached the girl - almost reached the bow - but not in time. She let the arrow fly, and Luisa was left with no alternative. She dived in front of Rose, turning to her side as she did so.

Luisa flinched as she felt the arrow embed itself in her arm, and blood began to leak from the wound. It hurt – _god_ , it hurt – but it made Rose see reason. The redhead jolted, as if coming out of a trance. She took in the carnage around her like it was the first time, and had the presence of mind to duck the next arrow that came hurtling towards her.

‘Rose,’ shouted Luisa, clutching her arm. She felt the urge to wrench the arrow out, like she’d seen people in old movies do, but she knew that that would only accelerate her bloodloss. ‘We’ve got to get out of here!’ Rose took in the state of her ally, and nodded. The bow was lost to her, still clutched in the hands of the District Four girl whom had momentarily turned her attention away from them as she deal with a tribute closer to her position. All they could do was try to get out alive.

‘Here,’ Luisa said, pressing a knife into Rose’s hands, ‘Take this. I won’t be able to use it right now.’

Rose took the dagger from Luisa’s outstretched hand. ‘Can you move alright on your own?’ She asked frantically, worry tinging her voice. She didn’t think she’d be able to carry her and all the weapons the other woman had picked up – _when had that happened??_

Luisa nodded, keeping a hand clamped over her wound, ‘I think so.’

There was no more time for them to say anything else – the District Four girl had finished off her surprise opponent and was nocking another arrow to fire in their direction. They fled as quickly as their injuries and baggage would allow them to, towards the vast woods that they hoped would afford them some shelter.

On their way, near the edge of the Cornucopia, Rose – more awake to her surroundings now that the spell drawing her to the bow had been broken – noticed a large orange bag waiting to be taken. It looked like it might contain any number of supplies that would help them survive. She altered their course slightly, making the bag their new target destination – but once again, they were beaten to it. A scrawny boy from – District Five?– knelt over it, prepping to take it and be on his way. _Fuck no_ – Rose had already lost out on her bow, she wouldn’t let this opportunity slip through her fingers. She raised the knife that Luisa had given her, took careful aim, and fired. It struck the boy right through the eye. He slumped to the ground, dead instantly.

Rose scooped up the bag and slung it over her back, doing her best to maintain speed. Luisa saw what Rose had done, but made no comment. Her usually dark skin was beginning to whiten with bloodloss, and all her energy was being poured into keeping her hand clamped firmly over the wound. She had none to spare with which to question Rose’s action, and besides - part of her knew that that bag could be the key to their survival.

Within a few moments, they reach the edge of the woods. Rose noticed with great relief that the trees and overall feel was very similar to the one back home. She’d be okay here, or as okay as it was possible to be in the arena. Hopefully, there would be similar game and plants, too.

Luisa did her best to keep up with Rose – she knew that they had to get as far away from the Cornucopia as possible – but after a while, her steps began to falter and her run became more of a stumble. Rose did her best to help the other woman move, but eventually conceded that they had to stop in order to dress the wound.

Luisa fell to the ground, almost collapsing with relief. She eventually settled herself on a large boulder, and inventoried her wound. At home, she’d read everything she could on medicine in preparation for the future that she’d wanted. _It’s gonna come in useful now_ , she thought grimly. She breathed deeply, trying to get her bearings. _Okay_ , she thought, eyeing the wound, _this looks worse than it probably is. It didn’t hit any major artery, I’d already be dead if that was the case. I just need some help to remove the shaft, and I should be good to go after some rest._

Rose slung the backpack off her shoulder, and knelt next to her ally. She was unsure what she should do in this situation – she had very little (read: none) medical experience to speak of. Most of the denizens of District Twelve were too poor to afford a doctor, and had to make do with the local apothecary. Rose hadn’t even been able to do that. If she’d gotten injured while hunting, it was tough it out or accept defeat.

‘Is there anything I can do?’ She asked, voice betraying an uncertainty that was not normally present.

Luisa nodded, face strained with pain. ‘It didn’t go very deep. I can feel the head close to the surface. This won’t be pretty, but you’re going to need to get one of the knives,’ she gasped then, but pushed on with the explanation, ‘preferably the smallest and most clean one you can find, and make a further incision in the wound.’

Rose looked stricken, face paling at the prospect. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yeah. Then you’re going to need to pluck it out. Is there any water in that bag?’

‘I- I can check,’ said Rose, glad to have a less objectionable task to carry out. She rummaged through the bag, making a mental note of the things inside of it for future reference. Finally, she came across a silver canteen.

‘Here,’ she said, a mixture of relief and triumph in her voice. Small victories. ‘It’s the only one in there, though. We’re going to need to make finding water a priority, afterwards. What do you want me to do with it?’

‘Clean the knife,’ said Luisa, voice ragged and uneven, ‘and then your hands, as much as you can. We can’t let this get infected.’

Rose did as Luisa asked, trying to conserve as much water as possible while also making sure that the job was done properly.

‘Alright,’ said Rose, steeling herself, ‘let’s do this.’

‘Hang on,’ said Luisa, ‘Give me something to bite down on.’

Rose nodded, appreciating that it was probably a good idea. It would stop the other woman from crying out too much, making sure she would be able to do the make-shift procedure without other tributes interrupting. She searched around, and eventually found a stick that looked firm enough to not break under what was sure to be considerable pressure, but also not so hard as to cause damage to Luisa’s mouth.

The process was long and unpleasant for both parties. Luisa looked ready to pass out from the pain more than once, and Rose fought several times to keep down the food that she had eaten that morning. She was used to gutting animals and even removing arrows from their hides, but they’d already been dead. It was quite a different thing to do it to a living person, one she’d come to . . . care about.

Finally, though, she managed to extricate the head, the rest of the arrow coming out along with it. It was a good thing that she hadn’t pulled it out at the beginning – the head would likely have gotten stuck, embedding itself further in the arm. It may have even ended up cutting into an artery.

Luisa spat out the stick in her mouth with a mixture of pain and relief. ‘Alright,’ she breathed, ‘Just have to clean it now, then find something to tightly bind it with.’

Rose finished the job in silence, glad that the more gruesome part was over. Afterwards, she re-packed the supplies that had managed to spill out and made sure to clean any traces of Luisa’s blood that had spilled during the procedure. It wouldn’t do to allow anyone to track them using it – that was already a danger, since there was no way of knowing how much had spilled when they made their way up here, but there wasn’t exactly a lot she could do about that.

She inventoried the bag while Luisa rested, paying more attention than she had when she had been searching for water. A sleeping bag, some rope, a chemical that looked like iodine – that’d come in handy for purifying water – some odd sunglasses that didn’t seem to offer much protection from the sun, matches, and little bits of food – crackers and beef jerky. It’d do until she could hunt some more – which would be difficult without her bow, but not impossible.

She nibbled at one of the crackers, doing her best to eat it as slowly as possible in an effort to trick her stomach into thinking that it was digesting more food than was actually being consumed. It was something she’d learned after years of being unsure exactly how much, if any, food she’d be able to procure the next day. It worked, sometimes. She was almost glad of it now – she knew Luisa would probably have a harder time coping with the hunger than she would.

‘Here,’ she said, handing the other woman a piece of jerky, ‘Eat this. You need to keep your strength up, we can’t stay here long. And try do it slowly.’

‘I don’t think I could manage anything else,’ replied Luisa, with a wince as she was forced to move her injured arm to take the food. She ate it quietly, and gave it her full concentration as she was still weak from the blood loss.

‘Thank you,’ she replied, a soft expression on her face.

‘It’s just jerky,’ said Rose, ‘And we’re meant to share everything in the bag, anyway.’

Luisa laughed softly. ‘I didn’t mean for the jerky.’

‘Oh,’ said Rose, a little awkwardly. She felt a tell-tale blush creep onto her face, and tried to will it away. No such luck. ‘You’re welcome, I suppose.’ She cleared her throat, trying to dispel the awkwardness, and said, ‘I think I’m going to climb that tree over there to see how much daylight we’ve got left.’

It was a pretty beneficial exercise – it allowed her to tell how long she could give Luisa to rest before they were able to move on – but also allowed her to preserve her dignity. She repeated this activity throughout the day – shaded by the trees, it was difficult to tell exactly what time it was – and after several hours, she could no longer justify staying there any longer. The bloodbath was surely over now – the Career tributes and whatever allies had stuck close to them had likely finished dividing the supplies, and would be close to beginning the hunt. They needed to move, to find somewhere to hide before that happened. She hadn’t originally intended to cower like this – and honestly, it galled her that she had to – but without her bow, she had no sure-fire way to fight back against them. She wouldn’t be able to beat any of them with Luisa’s sword – the other woman had told her that that was one of the first weapons they learn to use in their fancy training school, so tributes like Cato or Marvel would probably be experts in it by now – and knives wouldn’t give her the same reach. Luisa’s injury would prevent her from being able to defend herself for the next few days, at least.

She made her way over to the rock that her ally was sleeping on, and shook her awake gently. ‘Hey,’ she whispered, trying to keep quiet in case there was anyone already nearby, ‘we’ve got to move on. There’s only a couple of hours until nightfall, and we’re going to need to have found shelter by then.’

Luisa came to groggily – she ideally should have had more time to rest – but her skin had lost some of the paleness that had earlier crept in. ‘Where do you think we should go?’

‘Only way we really can go is forwards. Back would just bring us to the Cornucopia again, and I don’t like the look of that lake or those fields in the other directions.’

Luisa nodded, rising uneasily and re-stringing her sword onto her belt. Rose didn’t think that the other woman would be able to manage it in the condition that she was in, but refrained from comment. It was better she didn’t go unarmed, anyway, and Rose had most of her knives. Luisa eyed the water-canteen, most of which had been used to perform her make-shift surgery, and said, ‘We better find some water, first.’

Rose nodded, agreeing with the other woman, but wasn’t too concerned. She remembered Haymitch’s words about not sending her things she could easily get on her own, so she reasoned that fresh water must be reasonably close by.

‘You’re right. Let’s go.’

* * *

 

They walked for close to another two hours. By that point, even with the thick tree coverage, it had become obvious that night was drawing rapidly closer. The maximum distance at which they could see things in front of them was shortening, and the temperature was beginning to drop rather abruptly. Both girls drew their jackets in closer towards themselves, thankful that the gamemakers had at least seen fit to design them to retain heat.

Rose was beginning to worry about the lack of clear signs pointing to a nearby water source, Haymitch’s words be damned, when she noticed that the ground around her was beginning to grow slick with mud. Mud! That meant that water _had_ to be nearby! This discovery re-energised her, and she turned to share it with Luisa.

‘See how the dirt has been gradually turning into mud? That’s a sign water’s nearby. We shouldn’t be far off, now.’

Luisa nodded, but spared her breath. The other woman had managed remarkably well on their journey, but the exertion was beginning to take its tole. She was panting heavily, and whatever colour her cheeks had regained was fading. Rose doubted that the injured arm had been given sufficient time to stop hurting in the first place, but judging by the pained expression on Luisa’s face, it was worse now.

Less than five minutes later, they stumbled across a pond. The relief in the air was palpable – Rose could barely contain a triumphant whoop, and only managed to refrain from doing so out of concern that enemy tributes may hear. Luisa sagged to the ground, unable to keep walking any longer.

‘Could you use some of that iodine to purify the water?’ Asked Luisa tiredly, ‘I need to clean out the wound.’

Rose nodded, and set about doing the task. It took a frustratingly long time – though that could have been due to how thirsty they both were after such a long trek – but it was eventually completed. Before seeing to anything else, Rose undid the bandage on Luisa’s arm and dabbed the wound with the now-clean water. It all looked good – her blood was a healthy red, and there was no excess of fluid. With continued cleaning and re-dressing, it should shortly be back to normal functionality.

Once that immediate need had been taken care of, Rose and Luisa saw to quenching the thirst that had caused their throats to become rather dry and painful after hours of exercise without water. Both women felt better after they had done so – their minds became more focused, more adapt at taking in their surroundings – and there was a sense of something almost like levity in the air around them. They had done it – they had survived the first day.

When Luisa had thought fearfully of her seeming inevitable death in the arena, she’d almost always imagined herself dead at the initial bloodbath – usually at the hand of a tribute meant to be the natural ally of her District.  Now that she had survived the first day – with most of her limbs intact – she felt a sense of real, palpable hope well up within her. It wasn’t something she’d ever thought she’d be able to feel in the arena, but here she was.

And so much of that was due to the woman sitting beside her, sipping casually from the silver beaker. She’d known from the minute that she’d seen Rose at the knife station that the other woman would be good in a fight, had never doubted that, but what she didn’t count on was how . . . _gentle_ she’d be with her.   Even when she’d been literally digging an arrowhead of her arm, her touch had been tender, calculated to cause as little harm as possible.

‘You know,’ said Rose idly, a calculating edge to her voice, ‘We could camp near here tonight. Not right here, obviously – we’d be too easy to find – but somewhere nearby. We’d be close enough to get to water when we need to, and that arm is going to need a lot of cleaning.’

* * *

 

A little over an hour later, both women found themselves settling down for the night in a shelter of their own devising. It was constructed out of natural materials, and specifically designed to camouflage itself into the nearby surroundings. Rose herself would have preferred to climb a tree, but she doubted that Luisa would have been able to make it up one with the state of her arm. Luckily, they had known that finding subtle and effective shelter would be difficult, and spent an appropriate amount of time in training learning how to do so. Overall, they were pretty happy with their results.

However, a problem now presented itself – there was only one sleeping bag in the backpack. This bothered Rose – whom had grown up an only child, and never had much of an occasion to share a bed with anyone – to Luisa’s endless delight.

‘We’ll just share the bag,’ said Luisa, already laying half-inside it with an amused grin on her face, ‘There’s more than enough room for two. These things are designed to hold someone as big as Cato or Thresh. You’ll fit fine.’

Rose muttered something unintelligible to the human ear, which caused Luisa’s grin to widen further with suspicion. ‘What was that?’

‘I said,’ drawled Rose in an attempt at her usual confidence, ‘That I’ve got to take first watch, anyway. You need all the rest you can get.’

‘That’s true,’ Luisa agreed, ‘But there’s no reason you need to do that outside. You’ll probably be more visible out there than in here. Just stay awake in here and keep an ear out, they aren’t exactly a stealthy bunch.’

This was probably true, Rose thought. Careers never were known for their sneakiness – there tactics almost always relied on brawn over brains, so they rarely needed to be. This latest batch didn’t seem to be an exception to that rule, anyway.

‘And we’ll at least be able to keep each other warm. It’s cold out. C’mon,’ she said, patting the space beside her. ‘I promise to behave.’ She punctuated her final comment with a wink.

Rose relented with a sigh, and climbed in next to Luisa. The other woman was warm to touch – she hoped that that was a result of the time spent in the sleeping bag and not a fever – but it was still comfortable.

It didn’t take Luisa very long to fall asleep – it had been a long, difficult day for them both, but it had been particularly so for Luisa. Rose busied herself with keeping an ear out for approaching tributes – it really wasn’t all that different to listening for game in the woods – but every so often, she’d spare a glance at her sleeping ally.

She really was beautiful. In sleep, her face lost the worries that she wore so openly when awake and took on a kind of soft and relaxed quality. It wasn’t some that Rose would normally find appealing – she believed that a healthy dose of worry was good for you, particularly in situations like this – but Luisa was proving herself to be the exception to a great number of Rose’s rules.

All of a sudden, an unusual smell permeated the air – smoke! Either there was a forest fire, or some nearby tribute had decided to start one to keep warm. She poked her head out of the shelter to see what was going on, and located the source of the disturbance.

Her second guess had been correct – there were two tributes, likely an allied pair, huddled beside a freshly made campfire. She couldn’t recognise them in the darkness, but judging by the fact that they were able to get so close without her notice, she’d guess that they were from some of the middling Districts. The fire was emitting a large amount of smoke, the kind that would be easily visible for miles. Fools!

She was about to move out of the shelter to tell them to put it out – purely for her _own_ good, she didn’t particularly care what happened to them – actually, her survival more or less depended on their death – but it was too late. Loud, blundering footsteps began ringing out in the distance, growing ever closer. There were a lot of them – likely the entire Career pack and their allies.

Rose carefully and quietly re-entered the shelter. There was no time for them to retreat – the Career pack was too close, and if they abandoned their shelter the Careers may find it and know the kind of thing to look for in the future. No, all they’d be able to do was wait.

She looked to Luisa – she couldn’t leave the other woman to sleep. There was a chance that a dream may unknowingly cause her to cry out and give away their position – and besides, if they were about to die, she deserved to at least know it. Rose raised her hand and covered Luisa’s mouth. The other woman woke abruptly, and struggled until she saw that it was Rose. Rose raised her a finger to her lips in a gesture of quiet, and Luisa got the picture.

‘Well, well, well, what have we got here?’ Said Marvel in an arrogant drawl, ‘Thought we’d light ourselves a little fire, would we?’

Luisa’s eyes widened when she realised that the Careers weren’t here for them. She took up her sword with her good arm and made her way to the small door of the shelter. Rose grabbed her arm firmly, a warning look in her eyes. Neither of them could say anything for fear of alerting the other tributes to their presence.

Luisa tried to shake her arm free, but Rose had grabbed the injured one and it did not yet possess the strength needed to throw off that of the uninjured women. She made a gesture with the sword, pointing to the door. She mouthed something that looked suspiciously like, ‘ _Help_.’

Rose sighed internally. Of course she wanted to help the idiots that had lit the fire. But they couldn’t – there were just too many of them. She shook her head vigorously, then let go of Luisa and held up ten fingers – signifying the possible number of enemy tributes waiting for them outside – and pointed to the door. Luisa remained unmoved, and Rose saw no other option. Luisa – and likely Rose herself – would die if the other woman went outside.

She lashed out, targeting Luisa’s legs. Surprised, the brunette stumbled, and fell. Rose caught her, not wanting the sound of the fall to make any noise. As she kept Luisa locked in her arms, she was bizarrely reminded of the time right before the evaluations when she had performed almost the same manoeuvre. She hoped that Luisa would take this as well as she had that, but judging the way that she was still fighting her, still struggling to break free, she doubted it.

Luisa kept resisting until the canon boomed twice, signalling the death of the two tributes. Though she was no longer fighting, Rose kept her in her arms until she heard the sound of the Careers retreating, sure that they were momentarily safe. She released Luisa then, and opened her mouth to apologise, to explain, but the other woman didn’t want to hear it.

Luisa turned away from Rose, and said, voice uncharacteristically hard and cold, ‘I’ll take the next watch. You go get your beauty sleep.’

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During their second day in the arena, Rose and Luisa must deal with the consequences of last night's attack - as well as a fiery surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it's been so long, I just fel really burned out after fic week. Hopefully, things should be back to something resembling normal, now.   
> Hope you enjoy! And please consider leaving a comment if you do.

Rose awoke the following morning – her first full one in the arena – feeling decidedly strange. Not in the least because, if she didn’t think too hard about it, it almost felt like she was back home. Not District Twelve – no, that crumbling ruin didn’t bear the slightest resemblance to her current surroundings – but her _real_ home, the woods outside of it. The way the sun shone above the treeline, the way that animals chirped as they went about their normal business, the way that the hard ground felt against her body – it was all very familiar, and almost beautiful.

Almost, but not quite. A cannon boomed in the distance, shattering the quiet that had enveloped the arena. Another tribute was down. Rose was quickly jarred back to reality, and scorned herself for allowing herself to become lax, even for a moment. None of this, no matter how beautiful any of it was, was real. The Gamemakers had designed everything in this arena down to the last twig, and were responsible for almost everything that happened in it. She shouldn’t forget that, or she’d die – likely bringing Luisa with her.

Luisa. Things between them were. . . _awkward_ , after last night. No, _awkward_ was the wrong word for the state of their relationship at the moment – _frosty_ would be better, or even _non-existent_ , as Luisa still wasn’t speaking to her. Rose had made some tentative enquiries, knowing that the other woman likely held the previous night against her, but was met with either stony silences or curt, business-like responses. The role-reversal was unsettling – _Rose_ was meant to be the grumpy one, the one that didn’t want to talk, the one that needed to be coaxed into speaking more than a few words. Luisa was naturally chatty and vivacious, prone to rambling moreso than protracted periods of silence.

Last night had really gotten to her, and Rose had no clue how to deal with it.

_Something_ needed to be done to fix the rift between them – they were meant to be playing the part of the star-crossed lovers, after all, and not talking to each other would certainly make that difficult – but right now, she really didn’t think that they had time. The Careers had come _way_ too close last night – if she hadn’t restrained Luisa, they would both be dead. They needed to move out, to put more distance between themselves and the Careers if they were to avoid another similar confrontation.

Rose sighed with something akin to frustration. She hadn’t wanted to play like this – it had always been her plan to get her hands on the bow, then calmly pick off whatever enemies wandered into her path. Considering the needs of an ally, running away from a fight, hiding from her enemies – it made her feel like a coward. And cowards didn’t win the Games.

But she could do nothing but push on – it was that or die. And she refused to die this early on, refused to be forgotten, refused to slip into anonymity. She could still make her mark.

Rose brought up the idea of leaving with Luisa, whom merely nodded her agreement, muttering a brief assent. A scowl remained fixed on her face the entire time. They gathered their breakfast in silence, taking meat from the snares that Rose had set the previous night. She’d never been as good with snares as she was with a bow – they often required more patience than she had the time or capacity to give – but she was passable. It had worked, anyway. She made a sheltered fire to cook the meat on – it was something both of them had practiced in training, and they were confident that they’d be able to make it in such a way as that as little smoke as possible escaped. Still, they extinguished it as soon as the food was finished.

They moved out swiftly, trying to put as much distance between themselves and the site of last night’s attack as possible. Despite walking for hours, the silence between them remained heavy and laden with tension.  Rose had made several attempts at light-hearted conversation – which, for the record, she was horrifically bad at – but each and every one was swiftly re-buffed. The lack of response was beginning to bother her for reasons unrelated to their personal connection - though that wasn’t insignificant – because right now, the boredom of the audience posed a real and tangible threat. Hours of this _nothingness_ couldn’t have been very amusing for them after the mania of the previous day, and given that there hadn’t been another boom of the cannon in quite some time, she’d guess that the other tributes hadn’t been doing much, either. Unless she did something to fix it, the Gamemakers would take the initiative – and their attempt would most likely prove lethal.

‘Alright,’ said Rose, stopping in her tracks and grabbing Luisa’s arm in a bid to get the other woman to do the same, ‘We need to talk about last night. It’s been long enough.’

‘No,’ said Luisa, wrenching her arm back, ‘We don’t.’

‘Yes,’ replied Rose, voice equally harsh, ‘We do. You’ve not spoken to me since last night, barely even looked at me.’ An open discussion about feelings wasn’t something that came easily to Rose, especially when the cameras and audience of millions were forcing her to think very carefully about her words. She couldn’t say or do anything that would contradict the star-crossed lover’s narrative or damage the persona that she’d been carefully cultivating from the moment she was reaped. But she _did_ want to make it up to Luisa, as sincerely as she could. ‘I’m sorry that I restrained you last night. I know you wanted those tributes as your allies, too-’ She shot Luisa a pointed look, hoping that the other woman wouldn’t contradict her. Running in to save a random person wasn’t what you did in the Hunger Games – her actions would confuse the audience, and downright anger the Gamemakers. Rose needed to turn it into part of the narrative. Luckily, Luisa seemed to catch on, her eyes widening almost imperceptibly. ‘-But there were too many of them. It was almost all the other Careers, and their allies as well. You were injured – still are – and I don’t have my bow. We would’ve been dead in minutes, along with the other Tributes.’

Luisa sighed. It was a sad, resigned sound – one that paired remarkably well with the defeated expression on her face. ‘I know,’ she said, closing her eyes briefly as if trying to re-focus herself, ‘I know. I know you weren’t to blame – _not_ that holding me down was a good move – but I also know that if you hadn’t, we’d both be dead now. That’s not the only thing bothering me, it’s more – it’s just -’ She stopped talking then, realising that she perhaps shouldn’t say what had been on the tip of her tongue.

‘Just what?’ Asked Rose, despite her better instincts.

‘I just – I don’t think I’m meant for this. I wanted to be a doctor, to save lives when I can. This, letting people die – people I wanted for allies - ’ she added hastily, ‘It goes against everything I’ve always believed.’

Rose was on the verge of reaching out, of extending whatever comfort she could to the other woman – which wasn’t very much, as nurturing didn’t exactly come easily to her - but she figured she should at least _try_. She was raising her hand to Luisa’s face – to caress it, to smooth away an errant hair, _something_ – when a sickening _hiss_ sounded from nearby. Rose looked around confusedly, her eyes widening with fear when she saw it – a red-hot fireball, hurtling straight towards them.

She had no time to think, no time to plan, no time to strategize. All she knew was that the fireball was directly in Luisa’s path, and there was only one thing she could do. Rose propelled herself forward, hurling her own body at Luisa’s. Enough strength was put in to it to knock them both to the ground.

Pain.

The only thing Rose knew when she hit the ground was pain, a tearing, searing pain all along her right arm. She stared at it dazedly, the rapidly encroaching smoke making it hard to think, and _holy shit,_ she was on fire. Literally _on fire_. Flames licked their way up her arm, burning hot and bright. Her jacket provided some minimal protection – but judging from the pain she was in, it had at least partially burned through.

Rose knew what she should be doing in this situation – something, _anything_ that would get the jacket off her – but she was frozen. It was as if some kind of temporary paralysis had taken over her body, leaving her fully aware but unable to do so much as move a muscle.

She had never been more afraid in her life.

Luisa acted fast, being mostly uninjured by the impact. She undid the zipper and wrenched the burning jacket off Rose’s body, stamping the flames out once it had reached the ground. Under normal circumstances, such an action would have provoked some kind of reaction in Rose -  but right now, she was too busy trying to stay alive.

Rose exhaled shakily, and spared a glance at the now-freed arm. The view made her recoil in shock – it didn’t look good. Her skin was red and angry, already blistering in some places. The fire seemed to have burned through at least one layer of skin, and more in particularly poorly affected areas. This was going to take a lot more than whatever home-grown treatments they’d be able to find in the arena if she wanted to be of any use over the next few days.

But there was no time to examine the veracity of that theory, as right now they needed to _move_. Rose felt dread coil in her gut as she heard the tell-tale hissing begin again, indicating that more fireballs were on their way. The smoke was becoming progressively more dense, making it had to even see more than a few feet in front of them, never mind think clearly. The surrounding forest was becoming rapidly enveloped in flame, entirely cutting off their way forward – there was no choice for them but to move back the way that they had come.

They ran as hard and as fast as they could – it was not easy, especially given the assortment of burns that both had collected on top of their pre-existing injuries – but a combination of adrenaline and fear propelled them forwards.

As they moved, it became obvious that their path was not theirs to decide. Whenever either woman took a turn that the Powers That Be didn’t like – i.e a safe one, one that would keep them out of the way of other tributes – they’d find a wall of flame or fallen tree blocking their course. It meant that they were being guided – and none to subtly – to a place that would not, in the long run, prove very safe.

Rose was very much aware of this, and it made her anger burn with an intensity similar to the fire around her – she was sure that the Gamemakers got a particular thrill out of setting the Girl on Fire _on fire_ – but there was little she could do about it. They had no choice but to play directly into their hands – confrontation with other tributes would be worth it for even a few minutes of reprieve from the flames.

After some time – it could have been seconds, minutes, or hours, the adrenaline made it hard to tell – Rose and Luisa stumbled across an area that seemed to promise just that. It was a pond – several metres in diameter, with water that appeared clean enough. As the two women approached it, the flames around them seemed to recede as quickly as they had arrived.

They jumped into the water, and felt a sensation of almost immediate relief as the cool liquid made contact with their burns. Rose knew that the burn on her arm, at least, would require a hell of a lot more than some pond water to properly heal – it remained agonisingly painful to take it out of the water for more than a few seconds – but she’d take whatever solace she could get, at the moment.

They remained in the pond for some time, neither talking. The silence that hung between them was different to that of a few hours ago – that had been tense and awkward, and felt like they were teetering along a knife’s edge – which, judging by the inferno they’d just escaped, they _had_. This was different – more like a peaceful contentment as both tended to their respective injuries. The was no need for words.

Until, of course, there was.

All of a sudden, voices punctuated the tentative tranquillity that had emerged between them – but they didn’t belong to Rose or Luisa. It was Marvel – talking to someone that sounded like Cato. They were boasting about something or other, and didn’t seem to have noticed them - but it nevertheless caused the two women to look at each other, genuine fear in their eyes. If they had been in no condition to fight the previous night - when only one of them was injured - then they stood absolutely no chance now, when Luisa’s arm was still hurt and moving out of the water caused burning pain to erupt on Rose’s side.

But, like with most things that day – or any day, when in the Hunger Games – they didn’t have much of a choice.

They moved out of the water slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible – Rose had to bite down on her lip to stop herself from crying out – but the effort proved futile. Almost as soon as they had emerged and gathered their supplies, the Careers appeared – all currently alive, as well as their allied.   
Rose and Luisa _ran_.

As hard and as fast as they could – but thing is, it wasn’t that easy. During the initial firestorm, adrenaline had been enough to get them through – but that had run out. They were too tired, too injured, to maintain any kind of speed for long.

There was one option left to them – climb.

Rose grabbed Luisa’s uninjured arm with her own relatively healthy one, and pulled her in the direction of a nearby tree. Luisa seemed more than a little resistant.

‘I can’t!’ She said, fear in her eyes.

Rose gritted her teeth – she understood the other woman’s fear, because this didn’t come entirely without risk. She had been climbing trees for years and was able to manage it easily – but she’d also been on the verge of starvation for a lot of it. Luisa hadn’t – she’d always had square meals, and her training had given her a firm layer of muscle. Normally, that was useful to them, but in this case, it would be more of a hindrance – it was possible that the tree wouldn’t take her weight, especially if Luisa couldn’t properly identify which branches would hold her. Rose would need to do that for her.

She squared her shoulders, trying to imbue them with more confidence than she felt in hope that it would help the other woman, ‘Yes,’ she said roughly, ‘you can. I’ll help you, but we’ve got to do it quickly.’

They worked seamlessly after that – Rose pointed out the branches that were structurally sound, then helped Luisa onto them before going up herself. It was a good thing they’d worked on those damn trust exercises in training, or they’d never have been able to do it in time – as it was, they only managed to reach a tolerable height by the time that the Careers caught up with them.

As Cato and Marvel – accompanied by the rest of the deadly troupe – stumbled upon the duo, Rose shot a cocky smile for the benefit of the cameras. It had never been something she’d struggled with in the past – bravado was one thing that rarely failed her – but now, she found that it was strained. There was a very real chance that they would die here.

She doubted that the Careers would be able to climb the tree – all were bulkier than Luisa, who would have been incapable of it without Rose’s help – but one of the girl’s had Rose’s bow, and there was always Clove and her knives.

Rose had her own throwing knives, of course – but she didn’t trust her arm to be able to aim properly. Even the most basic of movements was agonising, and she didn’t have enough to take out all of the target’s, anyway.

All she could do was face them bravely, and hope that some kind of plan would come to her. ‘How’s it going down there?’ She said, voice laden with a faux-casual tone. Luisa looked at her worriedly, but played along, affixing a similarly amused expression on her face.

Cato smirked with a similar arrogance. ‘Smile all you want, ladies, because you haven’t got a lot of time to do it.’ He motioned to Marvel and another boy close to his side, ‘Marv? You wanted these two, right? Go and get ‘em.’

Marvel grinned – it was an unpleasant expression, one that Rose could tell had a negative impact on Luisa – and advanced. He made his way through the branches, and Rose felt her anxieties mount as he rose higher and higher – but she needn’t have worried, as once he had reached the approximate halfway mark, as sickening c _rack_ sounded as the branch he was standing on proved unable to bear his weight, and he tumbled to the ground.

He hit the ground with a _thud_ , and a laugh escaped Rose’s mouth. She was about to offer a scathing remark, but Luisa beat her to the punch, ‘Great job,’ she said, scorn dripping from her voice, ‘That was almost as good as your attempt at sparring with me back home.’

Rose had to fight to keep the surprise from her expression – this was a side of Luisa that she hadn’t seen a whole lot of. Oh, the other woman was cocky enough when the competition between them started to heat up in training, but she’d never been spiteful.

She _liked_ it.

Several more Careers tried and failed to reach them after that, some of them getting further than Marvel, others falling quicker. Cato was beginning to get frustrated, and the arrogant smile was falling from his mouth. Not being able to climb up a tree was hardly a glowing recommendation for his pack, and the audience would surely realise it.

‘Glimmer,’ he snapped towards the girl with Rose’s bow, ‘Finish them.’

The girl – she was the one that had taken shots at them the previous day, the one that had managed to injure Luisa – rushed to do as Cato ordered. It didn’t even occur to her to argue, and Rose thought that she might be a more than a little afraid of him. She nocked an arrow, and loosed – but the attempt was almost laughable. Rose and Luisa had been preparing to dodge, but there hadn’t even been a need for it – the arrow embedded itself in the tree, several meters below their perch. She tried another three times, to similar effect.

Cato didn’t bother to hide his frustration, this time. ‘Clove,’ he barked, indicating to the petite knife-thrower.

Clove’s expression was pure steel, and Rose felt genuine fear. She’d seen the other woman in training – she was almost as good as Rose herself was, and didn’t seem to have any injuries working against her. Clove raised her dagger, and aimed with perfect accuracy.

Thinking fast, Rose slung her backpack off her back and swung it in front of her. There was a muted thwack, indicating that the knife had hit the bag. She released a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, and forced a cocky smile onto her face – it came to her with even more difficulty than it had just a few moments ago – but she made herself hold it.

She extricated the dagger from the bag, and looked Clove directly in the eye. ‘Thanks for this,’ she said, twirling the dagger around menacingly, ‘I’m sure it’ll come in handy.’ She imbued her voice with as much threat as she could muster, and hoped that it would cause the other woman to recall the time they had spent at the knife station together.

Miraculously, it appeared to work. Clove exhaled angrily, but broke eye contact and did not reach for another dagger. She turned to Cato, and said, ‘Let’s just leave them here. Throwing more weapons up would be a waste, and I’m willing to bet we have more food than they do. They’ll need to come down sometime, and when they do, we’ll get them.’

Cato appeared to think this suggestion through for a moment – it looked like the brainpower cost him considerable effort – but eventually nodded. ‘Alright,’ he said, though he didn’t appear too happy about it. He forced a cocky smile onto his mouth, and looked up at Rose and Luisa. ‘Looks like we’re stuck with each other for a little longer. If you get too bored, you could always come down. We’ll be here.’

‘I think we can withstand the temptation,’ said Rose, with an exaggerated role of her eyes. Once the Careers had settled down, she exhaled quietly. They had been given some time. To many, this period would seem like it was merely prolonging the inevitable – but Rose was a survivor. Any extra time afforded her was time she could use – to plan, to strategize, to figure out a way to get out of this.

Slightly above her, she could feel Luisa starting to get anxious. If she had to put money on it, she’d bet money on the other woman being one of the first kinds of people. She reached out, and squeezed her hand, hoping that it would re-assure her.

It appeared to work – but whenever Rose moved to pull away, she could _feel_ the other woman’s anxiety ratchet up – surely, the audience would be able to feel it too. She re-joined he own hand with Luisa’s, this time leaving it there.

Weirdly enough, holding Luisa’s hand also seemed to cool her own worries. Human comfort wasn’t something that she’d sought in the longest time – not since her father had died, and she’d learnt that Elena wasn’t one to go to for that purpose – but with Luisa, it was kind of. . . nice. The other woman’s hands were smooth, and seemed to fit well with her own.

She could put up with this. For the sake of the audience, of course.

* * *

 

Hours passed, and very little had changed. The Careers continued their volley of witty insults – which they seemed to be using in place of an actual plan to get them down from the tree – but soon grew tired, and began to set up camp.

Rose used the hustle and bustle of movement to properly take in her enemies – there was no way she and Luisa would be able to sneak down from the tree when they were asleep. There was enough of them down there that there would be no way to tell whether or not they were all actually asleep, and they’d have to be even stupider than Rose believed them to be if they didn’t leave at least one person on watch.

_Although_ , there didn’t actually seem to be as many people down there as Rose had originally thought. Most of the Careers supposed “allies” were missing – including Rue, Thresh and Daniel. It wouldn’t make much of a difference to any escape attempt that she could make – they wouldn’t be able to take the ones that were there, even if they were fewer than she originally thought, not with her and Luisa’s injuries – but it was interesting. She hoped, for Luisa’s sake if nothing else, that Thresh and Rue, at least, had had the sense to ditch the Careers early on. She hadn’t seen their faces when the anthem had played last night, anyway, which she supposed was a good sign. She doubted that Daniel would have done the same – he’d trailed along after the District Four girl like a lost puppy. Him not being here now meant that they were likely separated, or that he was the one that had died earlier that morning.

Regardless – darkness was now gathering, and Rose was faced with another problem: what was she going to do about her burn overnight? She and Luisa didn’t exactly have a lot of room to manoeuvre, stuck as they were, and her arm was just as agonising as it had always been – worse, even, because she thought that parts of it were beginning to grow numb. That meant nerve damage – something that she wouldn’t be able to treat with the meagre supplies she was currently possessed of.

And then there was Luisa’s arm – she _thought_ that it was doing okay, but it would be impossible to check in their current positions.

This wasn’t the way she’d thought the Hunger Games would go.

All of a sudden, the sky lit up with a strange kind of artificial lighting as the National Anthem began blaring. Faces were projected onto the boarder of the arena – the faces of the tributes whom had already met their deaths in the arena. Most had been killed yesterday, in the initial bloodbath – Rose remembered watching with some anticipation this time last night, ticking off the deceased tributes and working out how many she would need to get through, not realising that by the next day, she’d be here – desperately hoping that tomorrow, it wouldn’t be her face – or Luisa’s – being projected.

Finally, the end of the broadcast was reached, and the final face – the one that had died early that morning – was shown. It was Daniel. Well, that was that mystery solved. She wondered if his death was accidental – a distinct possibility, given how dangerous the arena was proving to be – or whether his “allies” had grown tired of him and decided to cut their losses. She’d put her money on that option– the Careers were            as angry as Rose had been about the rule change, but it seemed like they hadn’t been able to find a way to make it work for them in the same way that she had.

_Good._ She’d take whatever advantage she could get, at the moment.

It occurred to her then that she should probably show some signs of distress at the demise of her district partner – not doing so would probably make her appear heartless, or some other such nonsense. She moved her hand – the one attached to her relatively uninjured arm – to wipe a false tear from her eye.

As she was doing so, she heard a quiet _thunk_ sound from somewhere above her. She looked upwards, straining her eyes to see through the darkness, and eventually spied a round package, attached to an odd white sheet – a parachute!

Rose felt her excitement spike, and for good reason – parachutes were sent to tributes in the arena, and contained gifts for sponsors. Careers were the most common recipients of these gifts – they tended to be most popular with the audience, and thus accrued more funds for parachutes – so their contents were often welcome, but ultimately frivolous. However, every so often, they contained something really, genuinely useful – she remembered that Finnick Odair, cast out from the main Career pack and otherwise weaponless, had received a shining silver trident. He’d subsequently used it to ratchet up a kill count higher than any other tribute to ever compete in the Games.

Hopefully, it’d contain something she’d be able to use. It was too small to contain a bow – that didn’t really bother her, because there was no way she’d be able to pull back the string with her arm in the condition that it was – but maybe it would be medicine, or even enough food to tide them over until the Careers got bored.

The only problem would be reaching it – it had landed several branches above her, and getting in to the position that she was currently in had been painful enough. She thought that her ever-growing excitement would be enough to carry her through that particular problem – but then there was the Careers waiting below her. She’d need to be quiet, or they’d discover the possible advantage that she’d been given and try to stop her. Luckily, none of them had seen the parachute drop – the ones that hadn’t settled down to sleep were occupied with watching the final strains of the National Anthem.

Now would be the perfect time to move.

She raised herself up fluidly, ignoring the stabbing pain that ran across her arm. She hazarded a glance down – still nothing. Luisa had noticed, however – Rose made a shaking movement with her head, pleading with the other woman not to make a sound. She seemed to get it, and settled back down. Rose made her way up the final few branches, and seized the parachute. It wasn’t heavy – whatever was in it was likely light, which meant it was either expensive or something utterly useless. However, she’d grown to regard Haymitch with something akin to trust during the long training period – he was a smart man, he’d send something she’d be able to use. Something she wouldn’t be able to get for herself in the arena.

She settled back in to her perch, making sure to use the same stealth that she had used to get out of it. The Careers hadn’t seemed to notice anything amiss. One – the boy from District Three, Cato’s ally – was gazing at her with suspicion, but she’d guess that he was smart enough to avoid going to Cato with anything less than fool-proof evidence – which, now that she had the parachute – she wouldn’t need to provide.

As she began prying open the tin, she could feel Luisa watching her eagerly. This could save them both. Rose didn’t like being so dependant on an outside power – but she had no choice. She’d take whatever helped them to survive. The clasp proved difficult to open – it didn’t help that her arm seemed to be hurting worse than ever, now that it knew that salvation was potentially around the corner – but the lid eventually popped off.

There was another, smaller container on the inside. She pulled it out eagerly and examined it closely – there were pictures on the outside, depicting how best to apply it. Medicine!  She scooped out a portion eagerly – it was cold to touch, and smelled strongly of disinfectant. Rose looked towards Luisa – this was her area, after all, and she’d ask the other woman to apply it in a situation where mobility was more possible. Luisa peered at the medicine suspiciously, but nodded. Rose proceeded, applying it to her injured arm.

The contact was _agony_ , but after the haze of pain had cleared, Rose could tell that it was already beginning to take effect. She applied a little of the cream to some of her smaller burns, then passed the can to Luisa. The other woman had some burns of her own, and the disinfecting properties might prove useful to her arrow wound. Luisa would know better than she would.

They’d live out the night, anyway. Morning would be a different story. Rose couldn’t picture the Careers being content to wait around another day – they’d get restless, and she didn’t think they’d be able to dodge all of Clove’s knives. Something would need to happen – something urgent.


End file.
